


Salve Amor

by moonfairy13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fred Weasley Lives, Friends to Lovers, Love, Soul Bond, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:29:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 31,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23128567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfairy13/pseuds/moonfairy13
Summary: Hermione casts a soul bonding charm to save Fred's life. It's not a hard decision for her. She has loved him from afar, and can't bear the thought of life without him. But the consequences of her next decision are just as significant. She doesn't want him to know what she's done...
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Comments: 770
Kudos: 1080





	1. The Battle

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to LSUSweetie for fab ideas and encouragement, and for writing Spiritus Vitae, which totally gave me the idea for this. (You really should read it; it's lovely.) And a big bunch of pink flowers go to DreamyStranger for eternal enthusiasm for my ideas and writing :-)
> 
> As always, happy comments are welcome :-)

May 2nd, 1998. 2.13am.

“Salve amor.”

Hermione made the tiny crossed heart wand movement while shielding her arm with her robes, so that no-one else would see. As she did, she breathed the spell; quietly and quickly, but with feeling, just as Professor McGonagall had told them they would need to. If ever they used this rare and revered charm. “But tread warily,” her beloved teacher had warned, “for a witch or wizard can only use this spell once in their lifetime, and it comes at a price.” 

Even those who usually paid only a tenth as much attention as Hermione did in class had focused on the professor’s warning when this spell was discussed. Every fifth year knew that the charm, once uttered, would serve to share their life force. It could save the life of the person to whom they promised their heart. But it would also mean that they would never love another. Could never marry another. Whether or not their feelings were requited by the recipient. For those in a happy marriage, it was a simple choice. For those in a relationship, it was a question of trust. And for those who, like Hermione, loved another from afar, it was a potential sacrifice. A partial soul bond which may or may not ever be completed by the person to whom it was given.

Hermione didn’t mind. If the feeling in her own heart wasn’t enough reason to cast it, even a fleeting thought of the pain that George would experience if Fred didn't make it was enough. Percy and Ron’s relieved sighs were further confirmation that she had made the right decision. And the look on Molly Weasley’s face, when she saw that her middle son was still breathing as his body was pulled from the rubble? 

Hermione would breathe that look of joy and relief into her chest and use it to seal the space that had been left when she had given a piece of her own heart to save the life of Fred Weasley.


	2. The Promise

May 2nd, 1998. 11.42am.

“I know what you did.” His voice was unusually quiet; soft in her ear. And he sounded like he was about to cry.

When she turned, his brown eyes were wide and full of emotion. “Well then,” she whispered, sounding somewhat desperate, “please keep your mouth shut, George, because I don’t want him or anyone else to find out.”

Hermione looked around the hospital room warily, but the rest of the Weasleys were occupied. The healers had placed Fred in a magical coma, and said that they would lift the spell at five o’clock. The bone-mending potions and charms should all have done their work by then, and Fred wouldn’t be in pain if he was awake. The entire Weasley family and their adopted others had congregated around his bed and, reassured by the confidence of the healers, they had fallen into a routine of chatting, reading and, in some cases, simply sitting and reflecting on what had happened. Hermione looked around. No-one was watching her and George’s conversation, but even so…

Taking the younger twin by the hand, Hermione tugged him up from his chair and towed him behind her. “I’m going to see if I can find some biscuits,” she muttered, but there was no reply. 

Once they were out of the room, it took George less than two seconds to gather her into his arms and press his cheek to her face, his own tears surprising him in their speed and intensity. Hermione had the presence of mind to lead him to a deserted corner of the corridor where a battered, low, brown chair sat by an apparently abandoned filing cabinet. Hermione enlarged the chair with her wand and pulled the tall man down to sit close beside her.

“I’m never going to be able to repay you,” he sobbed, looping his long arms around her. “If I had lost him…” He trailed off in another flood of tears, shaking his head in disbelief at the sacrifice she had made for his twin. “Do you really love him that much?”

Hermione nodded. “It wouldn’t have worked if I didn’t.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Or did you skip that lesson? Was that one after you flew out of school?”

George’s ‘no’ was almost silent, but Hermione still heard it. 

She smiled at him, through tears of her own. Which were flowing for the friends they had lost and as a result of the adrenalin that she had been feeling all day. “I knew what I was doing,” she said, taking his chin in her hand and nodding at him until he seemed to accept her words as truth. “It was a very simple choice. It was within my power, and in that moment, I knew I couldn’t have lived with myself if I hadn’t done it. I wouldn’t have wanted to keep walking the earth without knowing that he was walking it too, and I couldn’t have watched you all live without him either.”

“But Ron…” George trailed off.

Hermione shook her head. “Will get over it, and it’s probably a blessing in disguise. I’ll tell him I’m not ready for a relationship.” She rubbed her face. “We wouldn’t have worked,” she said. “And,” she spoke more quietly, “I had kidded myself for long enough that we could be happy together, when I had fallen in love with someone else.”

“You’ll tell Fred?”

“No!” Her hiss came quickly, and it startled him. George’s eyes were wide, and his mouth was open. Hermione leaned in closer. “Promise me you won’t tell him either,” she said, and George had never heard her sound so serious.

“But why? Surely…”

“No,” she said again. “I don’t want pity. I don’t want repayment and I don’t want him to be with me out of any kind of obligation, George. It was my decision and, as long as he wakes up and is himself, I’m happy with it.” 

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, knowing that he would refuse her nothing. 

Hermione thought for a few minutes, and George waited patiently. “I want two things,” she said.

George gazed into her eyes. “Anything.” His lips formed into a half smile. “I’d offer you my own hand and eternal love, but I can’t really do that now you’re promised to another. Half my fortune, when I make it? A lifetime supply of dungbombs?” 

“Your silence about what I’ve done,” she said. “And a lie.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“When he wakes,” Hermione said, surprising George with her coolly analytical thinking, “he’s going to see that mark over his heart. Pretend it’s a scar from the wall. Or from an unknown twin spell that drew on some kind of earth magic. Make it into a joke; a love-shaped rock; you’ll think of something. Tell him anything, George, but not the truth. I can’t bear the thought of him knowing what I’ve done.”

George took her hands. “But what if he’d want to be with you? What if he would want to repay you and…”

“Exactly,” she said. “I don’t want him if he’s just paying off what he sees as a life debt. I don’t want him to sacrifice his own happiness just to return a favour. No,” she said firmly. “I gave my gift freely. And I’ll not have him know. Promise me?”

George felt he had no choice but to nod his agreement. He took her hand and pressed a kiss to it. “But what will you do?” he asked. “You’ve cast half a soul bond. You’ll never be able to love or marry another wizard…”

“I’ll go back to school, and then have a career,” Hermione replied. “Or maybe two,” she smiled, gesturing with her hand around the hospital corridor. “There’s plenty to do to get things back in order, George,” she said, pressing his hand again. “It was my decision. Allow me my dignity please? Promise me?”

Just as two words had changed Hermione’s fate forever, George only needed two words of his own to make her the promise that she needed. “Alright, love.” They were tearfully whispered into her hair and then sealed with another kiss to the palm of Hermione’s hand. It was probably the most quietly spoken phrase that one of the Weasley twins had ever uttered.


	3. The Mystery

September 15th, 1998

“We know that three _salve amor_ spells were cast during the Battle of Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall announced to her seventh- and eighth-year class, who were revising key topics for their NEWTS. “And I’m sure you all know, thanks to the Daily Prophet, that two of them were cast mutually, by our own Professor Lupin and his wife, Auror Tonks. At different times during the battle, of course, but mutually.” 

The class broke into smiles when they heard that. It was one of the most heart-warming and re-told stories of that dark day and night. The two had still needed healing for their injuries, but the sight of them laying side-by-side on makeshift stretchers, holding hands and beaming smiles at each other on the floor of the great hall, well that had cheered a lot of people up.

“Do we still not know who cast the third, Professor? Or who the recipient was?” 

When Hermione heard Ginny’s question, she feigned slight annoyance, pretending that her quill had broken. She reached for her wand to sharpen it, taking much more care – and thus much more time – than was strictly necessary. She didn’t want to be looking up during this conversation and have her face give her away. Both Minerva and Ginny were among the most astute witches she knew. Their observation skills were matched only by those of Molly Weasley.

“We do not, Ms. Weasley,” the professor answered, with a smile in Ginny’s direction. “Several of the injured witches and wizards who were treated here or attended St. Mungos had marks or scars which could have resulted from the charm. But a soul bond is a very private matter to some. If the healers saw a mark which could have resulted from such a spell, they would not consider it appropriate to record it or tell anyone. It's unlikely they would even mention it to the recipient themselves. It’s an old and revered charm.”

“Well how do we know that a third spell was cast, then?” Lavender Brown clutched her hand to her breast, and then looked excited. “If the healers don't point it out ... what if it was me?” She pulled at her robes and peered down her blouse, making several other students begin to chuckle. “I mean, I have scars,” she shrugged, playing to her audience and enjoying her moment in the limelight. “Maybe I have a secret admirer and I don’t even know!”

Minerva McGonagall laughed, and several of the class joined in. They were enjoying the more relaxed teaching style that the professor had adopted for those who were now of age and were still in school through no fault of their own, but because the war against Voldemort and the interference of Umbridge and the Carrows in their education had left unacceptable gaps in their knowledge. The young adults enjoyed more freedom. They were also able to use a specially set up floo and leave the school whenever they pleased, as long as they recorded their absence in case of emergency.

“As you know, Hogwarts is very old and the castle has magic of its own,” she continued. “And none of us know why, although I like to think that one of the founders had a romantic streak, but there is a row of hearts roughly carved high into the wall of the seventh-floor corridor. And when the _salve amor_ charm is cast within the castle walls, a new heart appears. That’s how we know that three were cast that night.”

“So it happened inside the castle walls?” That was Parvati. “That could narrow it down…”

“I realise, Ms. Patil,” Professor McGonagall said, “that the mystery of this is more exciting than checking your knowledge of the thirty-seven relational charms. But I think, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to the list and leave you to speculate on unclaimed soul bonds out-of-hours.” She smiled. “Now, what do you all know about the key binding charms?”

Hermione spent the remainder of that lesson alternately worrying that Ginny was indeed going to ‘speculate out-of-hours’ and trying to think of how to head her friend down another conversational road if that happened. But, by the time they had revised soul bonds, magical marriage vows and other relational charms to Professor McGonagall’s satisfaction, Ginny seemed to have forgotten all about the mystery of the lucky recipient of the unknown spell.

At least for now.


	4. The Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy to see all the compliments and love for this fic! So I have made a special effort to edit and upload a new chapter - here you go, with thanks for all the happy thoughts 💜💜💜

September 19th, 1998.

Four days later, Hermione found herself the subject of Ginny’s scrutiny in a different way. It was her birthday and, as her parents were still being tracked down by the Auror department, Molly Weasley had insisted that a celebratory dinner be held for her at The Burrow. 

All available Weasleys were summoned home for the Saturday night and, as the late summer weather was still just about holding, a large table had been set up in the garden. Arthur was set to work on the barbeque, and the twins had brought a selection of tabletop fireworks and new tricks from their shop.

Fleur and Bill were, it seemed, still in the honeymoon phase of their marriage, and finding it hard to keep their hands off each other. A situation which Ginny found hard to ignore, despite the fact, Hermione privately thought, that she and Harry had a tendency to act in a rather similar way. Not that Hermione minded. She enjoyed seeing them so in love and knowing that her friends had found that kind of joy. Especially now that her own romantic possibilities had become so limited.

“Can you believe them?! They can’t keep their hands off each other!” Ginny laughed, once the youngest Weasley had pulled Hermione into the kitchen on the pretext of getting more drinks.

Hermione smiled. “It’s nice to see people happy,” she said, diplomatically, as she opened the pantry door in search of butterbeer.

“Well, yes, okay,” Ginny replied. She scrutinised Hermione carefully. “And what about you, young lady?” she asked. 

“What about me?”

“Well, when are we getting you coupled up? We’re all getting there, you know. Me and Harry, George and Angie … what about you? Is there a wizard who has caught your eye?” Ginny waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Perhaps a brother of mine?”

Hermione’s heart leapt at the question, worried that Ginny knew how she felt about Fred. She made sure that her features were neutral before she turned back to her friend. And then she realised – and relaxed. Ginny was talking about Ron.

“Oh,” she said, “Ron and I are just friends. We talked about it, after the battle, and decided it wouldn’t work. I think he and Lavender are much better suited, to be honest.” In fact, although Hermione omitted to mention this fact to Ginny, she had been dropping subtle hints in Lavender’s direction, hoping that this would help speed things up. The sooner that Ron was settled with somebody else, somebody who could truly love him in the way that he deserved, the happier Hermione would be. 

Ginny wrinkled her nose, not sharing Hermione’s hope for that coupling. Ron and Lavender had made Bill and Fleur look positively Victorian in their desires.

“Well alright,” Ginny conceded, seeing from Hermione’s face that that particular ship had clearly sailed. “But I do have three other single brothers. At least I suppose Charlie’s still single. It’s hard to know sometimes, with him so far away,” she said, twisting her lips in uncertainty. “And if none of them take your fancy,” she waved her arm expansively, as if all her brothers’ affections were hers to disperse as she chose, “then there’s the whole wizarding world to pick from.” She leaned in closer. “There must be someone you fancy?”

Just outside the kitchen door, Fred's ears pricked up. He had been about to enter the room, having been dispatched from the garden by Molly to collect the girls, who she rightly assumed had been delayed by their need to chat. But he had slowed down when he heard them talking about Hermione and Ron, and he stopped in his tracks at Ginny’s last question. Both he and George had a keenness for spotting and using gossip in their jokes and pranks. And this conversation sounded like it might be interesting. So he leaned against the door frame and shamelessly listened in, wanting to hear Hermione’s reply.

“I’m not interested in a relationship right now,” Hermione told Ginny. “I want to focus on my education, and then my career.” 

“Hmmph!” said Ginny, leaning closer to Hermione. “Professor McGonagall! Have you taken some Hermione Polyjuice? Professor? Is that you?” She cackled cheerfully at her own joke, and Hermione smiled too.

Then she shrugged. “Maybe I’m not the marrying type, Ginny. I’m not sure I am really.” She tried hard to sound sincere and to not show the emotion that she was feeling. It had been hard to damp down her feelings for Fred over the past few weeks, but her saving grace had been the fact that they were all recovering from the effects of the war. So the occasional tear or odd reaction was easily passed off as a bit of post-traumatic emotion. 

Thus far, Hermione hadn’t wavered in her conviction to keep quiet about the soul bond that she had cast to save Fred, and had done exactly as she had told George she would. She had distracted herself with her studies and, at least when she was awake, she tried not to think about the tall redheaded man who strode cheerfully through her dreams each night.

“Hermione Granger!” Ginny’s voice was loud in her response to her friend’s words. “None of that,” she said. “We need to find you a wizard!” 

Hermione flinched and, having now moved into the doorway, Fred felt himself wince in response. He had heard Hermione’s words, and had been slightly surprised to feel a pang of something in his chest when he did. Sympathy for anyone who found themselves at the mercy of his sister’s matchmaking tendencies, he imagined. His only thought was to save their friend from the unwanted focus that his sister was placing on Hermione’s love life. 

He stepped fully into the kitchen and raised his voice. “Of course she doesn’t want to settle down, Gin-bug! Now that we’re free and able to enjoy our freedom, we single witches and wizards need to have some fun!” Fred threw his arm around Hermione and squeezed her to his side in a friendly gesture. “Don’t we, love?” 

Hermione felt her body flood with a comforting warmth in response to his touch. 

Oh. This was new. 

Although, she supposed, she hadn’t really had much physical contact with Fred since the battle. He and George had been busy re-opening their shop, and she had been scooped up in the tender loving care of his mother. Which had mostly involved relaxing on quilts in the garden and being fed nourishing meals three times a day because Molly perceived that Hermione needed ‘fattening up’. And then she had gone back to school, three hundred and fifty miles away from him. It felt unbelievably good to be near Fred again. Embarrassingly good, in fact. And it took all the willpower Hermione had not to nestle into Fred’s side, slide her arms around his body and bury her face in his neck. For the evening. Or maybe the whole week, if he'd let her.

Fred winked down at her, the wide smile on his face feeling like a beacon of light to her soul. “Honestly, Gin,” he repeated, wanting to ensure his sister had taken his point and laid off Hermione. “Just because you and Harry want to settle down right away! Let the rest of us play the field!” Hermione could do nothing but smile back up at him and nod as he led her back into the garden and guided her to her chair at the top of the table before returning to his own. Even the fact that he was now a few feet away didn’t curb her joy. The half minute that she had spent tucked under Fred’s arm was her best birthday present that year by a very long way indeed.


	5. The News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments that you have posted on this so far :-)
> 
> Given what's going on in the world at the moment, I have put extra time into working on this today, and I'm going to make it a bit longer and a bit more stretched out than originally planned. (We're not talking Fremione and the Weasleys length lol, more like about 18 chapters!) And that's because I'm isolated and I have reader and writer friends who are isolated and, in this situation, we need little bursts of happy to keep us going. Or, in this case, a few little bursts of angstyhappy but you know we'll get to the happy ;-) Hopefully, as a result, I can now be posting a chapter every couple of days.
> 
> And I'm going to say the same thing that I said yesterday when I posted the latest chapter of Fremione and the Weasleys. If you're enjoying fics at this time, please take the time to comment, even if you don't usually do that. If you don't know what to write, then post an emoticon or two. If you're shy because English isn't your mother tongue, then post in your mother tongue and it'll give us isolated writers something to do in looking it up on google translate! (Hey, I'll even try and reply in your language!) But please, connect :-) And I don't just mean with me, but with anyone who is writing and posting and keeping us in fics at the moment. Thank you, and be safe 💜

October 19th 1998

The calm and contented expression on Hermione’s face when she exited The Burrow and headed towards her birthday meal in Fred’s embrace had, somewhat luckily for Hermione, gone unnoticed by Ginny, who was following behind the pair. 

It had not, however, escaped the attention of the uber-observant George Weasley. And so, that very evening, George had begun to ponder and plot. He considered – and rejected – a number of options. And then the perfect solution came to him. Earlier that month, he and Angie had discovered something unexpected but hugely exciting; they were going to be parents. In about five months’ time, thanks to Angie’s cycles having been disrupted by the stress of the war and its aftermath. At first, they were shocked. They kept the news to themselves for a couple of weeks, while they adjusted to it. But soon, George was unbelievably excited at the thought that he was going to be a Dad. He was desperate to tell his twin, and even more enthusiastic when he realised that the implications of his and Angie’s news could help him to help both Hermione and Fred.

And George was sure that Fred did need his help. Somewhat to his twin’s frustration, and spurred on by the increasing attention that he was receiving from witches now that he was becoming a successful businessman, Fred had begun taking his own advice. He had begun to play the field, albeit in a charming and relatively discreet way so as not to attract the wrong kind of attention from his mother. Although, as George seemed to find something wrong with each of the witches he met, Fred sometimes felt that he might as well be living with his mother. 

George strongly suspected that, if he could find a way to persuade Hermione to be honest with Fred about what she had done, Fred would fall in love with her. The two of them were already good friends, and Hermione made Fred laugh in a way that most women couldn’t. Even more important, at least as far as George’s thought process went, was the way that Hermione seemed to be able to challenge Fred into thinking in different ways. And George was sure that Fred had enjoyed the birthday contact just as much as Hermione had. He didn’t dare bring it up though, knowing that the wrong kind of intervention could do more harm than good.

Hermione, by contrast, and having been shocked by her own response to Fred’s touch on her birthday, had withdrawn into her studies. According to Harry, who George bumped into in the Alley, she allowed herself to be dragged outside and into the quidditch stands only when Ginny’s protests became too loud. Once every day or two, Ginny would insist on marching Hermione across the school fields ‘for her own good’, having first searched her friend and removed any books from her person or bag. Knowing that Ginny was probably right about her need for fresh air, Hermione would sit obediently in the stands while Ginny mounted her broom and flew around the pitch, trying to amuse her friend with demonstrations of tricks and rolls. Hermione would applaud in the right places, and try hard not to think back to her days of watching Fred fly around the same pitch. Then, when she was allowed, rosy-cheeked, to return to the school, she would head back to the library and search – in vain – for a book that might help her better understand her situation. On the upside, she told Neville, when he asked if she wasn’t working a bit too hard, she was likely to be finishing her NEWTS much sooner than expected.

Back in London, George was focused on doing everything he could to work out how to put his twin and Hermione in the same room as often as possible. And his greatest idea to that effect – even if he said so himself – was to convince Fred, and then Hermione, that she should be employed part-time by the shop as a creative consultant. 

And so, one Thursday evening, he and Angie brought takeaway to the flat and excitedly told Fred that they were expecting a baby. No, it wasn’t planned; yes they were delighted; and no, they hadn’t yet told Molly, but would do soon. George had wanted Fred to be the first to know, and Fred was so touched by that that he almost cried.

And George unashamedly took advantage of Fred’s emotional state to launch his campaign. It was clear, he said to Fred, that they would need more help. From someone who was bright, and who they could trust. And, he mentioned casually, Hermione was way ahead of the others at school and had plenty of spare time. It must be terribly boring to have to play the third wheel to Ginny and Harry, he said. They could, George argued, make life more fun for Hermione while the shop benefitted from her awesome brain and ability to critically think. Not to mention putting in place some measures which would allow George some time off when it was time for Angie to give birth. He slipped in the factoid that he had picked up from Neville about Hermione finishing her NEWTS early and, to George’s delight, Fred readily agreed to the idea. 

Hermione was less sure. 

“But I’m not creative,” she had protested, when George first presented the suggestion to her. He had turned up unannounced in Hogsmeade just two days later, knowing that they walked to the village each Saturday morning. And he had ‘unexpectedly’ spotted Hermione, Ginny and Harry while allegedly scoping out a new product range in Zonko’s.

“I’m stealing Hermione,” he told his sister, not waiting for an answer. Hermione found herself being led to the pub, where George lifted her onto a bar stool and quickly began to explain his plan, while they were waiting to be served.

“You and Fred are so much more creative than me, though,” she said, repeating her concern.

George tipped his head from side to side. “Maybe,” he conceded, “although I think you’re more creative than you think. But no, what we’re really looking for is someone who can work with us and make our ideas better.”

“Safer,” Fred added, coming up from behind and surprising Hermione with a friendly kiss to her cheek. “Oh,” he said, in response to her shocked and blushing face. She clearly hadn’t been expecting to see him. “I was in Zonko’s,” he explained. “Georgie left me to pay when we saw you outside. Didn’t want to miss the chance to head hunt you,” he grinned.

“Interesting,” said George. Hermione wasn’t sure whether he was still talking about how she could benefit their products or commenting on her response to Fred’s touch. She just knew he had seen that, the sharp-eyed git.

“Look, love, in some cases,” Fred continued, while George chatted to Tom and ordered them a round of butterbeers, “we have an idea and we can’t quite make it work, and we think you’d be great at that. Look, let’s get a table. Then we can talk properly.”

Hermione allowed herself to be led to the quieter part of the pub, and spent a few agonising seconds wondering whether it was more obvious if she sat next to Fred or avoided sitting next to Fred. Happily, George made the decision for her.

“Squish up, love,” he instructed, indicating that Hermione should slide onto the bench behind the table. She then found herself with a redheaded twin on either side, and George whispered his and Angie’s news to her, eliciting a congratulatory hug from Hermione before Fred pulled a notebook from his pocket and opened it. 

“Here,” he said, showing Hermione a double-page spread. It showed the progress of their thinking in relation to the development of a toffee that would give the eater more confidence around someone they fancied. Within moments, Hermione hadn’t been able to help herself. She became engrossed in making sense of their diagrams and notes. Right away, she was focused on trying to solve the problem they had encountered and suggested a couple of ways they might easily fix it.

George smiled as he saw her excitedly looking up at Fred, as the two of them brainstormed possibilities. They considered the option of flooing to the shop to try it out and then grew frustrated when George leaned in and pointed out that they had run out of a key ingredient which they both thought might work. 

“Well, why don’t you come over tonight,” he suggested, “and I’ll pick up what you need this afternoon. I’ll even get you and Freddie a bottle of wine to share while you brew the potion.”

“What will you be doing?” Hermione asked George. She could see what he was doing here. She didn’t really mind as such, as long as he continued to keep his lips sealed about what she had done, but she always wanted to know as much as she could. About everything.

“We’re going to The Burrow to tell Mum and Dad,” he said, making Fred look up in slight surprise. George shrugged. “Well we can’t make Hermione keep the news from Ginny,” he said. “You can have next Saturday evening off,” George told Fred. “Take Hermione out to celebrate your potion collaboration, if you like.”

George’s words made Hermione panic. “Oh,” she said, thinking quickly, “Oh, I’m busy next Saturday. But, yes,” she looked back at Fred, “we can work on the potion tonight if you like. I need to get a book and do a couple of things back at the school,” she said, “but after that I’m free til dinner. Or later, if you want to feed me?”

“Fred’ll feed you,” George said decisively. “It’s fish and chip night. Our treat, as thanks for your help. And we’ll have a chat and discuss how we can pay you properly from now on.”

Once they had finished their drinks, the three of them had gone back out into the cobbled streets in search of Ginny and Harry, so that George could share his news with them as well. Then, they all said their goodbyes and went in different directions. As he watched Hermione, Harry and Ginny walk back towards the school, Fred turned back to George and made a throwaway comment that he would instantly forget but that George would torture himself with for days afterwards. 

“Well,” Fred remarked, “that’s me effectively friend-zoned then!” He chuckled, shook his head and began to walk back to the pub, muttering something about there being other fish in the sea.


	6. The Matchmaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so completely cheered up by all the lovely comments that you left on the last chapter, that I am saying thank you by posting another chapter today. And I have amused myself further by incorporating some of your comments into the chapter. I hope you enjoy it :-)
> 
> Sending happy thoughts and virtual hugs to all who are isolated at the moment 💜💜💜

October 20th, 1998

George woke up ridiculously early on the Sunday morning feeling so guilty that, when Angelina saw his face, she was really quite concerned. After reassuring her - in more ways than one - that things were good between them, he gave her a tender kiss and took himself off for a long think. As he walked through the quiet streets, he realised a couple of things. First, he needed to pull back and tread more carefully. It was clear that any more overt intervention on his part may result in the same panicked reaction from Hermione that he had elicited the previous morning. And that probably wasn't going to help get his oblivious fool of a twin to open his eyes and truly see the wonderful witch who was right in front of him. Friend-zoned, indeed! More like Fred-zoned, he thought with a chuckle, turning towards Diagon Alley and wishing for the thousandth time that he could tell his brother just how special Hermione thought he was. George also realised that he needed to apologise to Hermione, and he knew just how to do that. 

Hermione was surprised to find that an owl was already waiting for her when she went to the great hall for breakfast. The little brown bird, who she already recognised from the shop, was carrying a note from George asking her to floo over and meet him in the Leaky Cauldron. 

When she arrived, George was waiting for her – without Fred – in front of a mug of hot chocolate as further payment for her expertise.

“How did last night go for you?” he asked, once he had settled them into a quiet corner where they wouldn’t be overheard. 

“I can’t say it wasn’t nice to spend time with Fred,” she said, unable to be less than honest with him, “and we made the potion work, so that’s good.” 

‘Nice’ was a bit of an understatement. Hermione had walked so quickly on her way back to the school that Harry had joked about wishing he had brought his broom so he could keep up. Once they reached the front gate, she slipped away into the castle while Harry and Ginny were snogging each other goodbye. She walked quickly to Gryffindor tower, gathered her toiletries and a large fluffy towel and locked herself into the prefect’s bathroom, where she took a long, pondering soak. Not because she wanted to prettify herself for Fred, but she needed to get her head around this unexpected new development. Finally deciding that she was suitably mentally prepared, she had donned a clean but casual outfit, fastened her hair up with her wand and flooed to the flat as Fred had instructed.

He had been the perfect host; taking her hand as she stepped out of the floo, making tea and then offering her his arm when they went to collect the fish and chips from the Cauldron. After a nice slow, chatty walk back, he led her upstairs to the flat and invited her to choose between eating at the kitchen table or eating on the sofa. Hermione picked the sofa; she ate up the table three times a day at school, she said, with a cheerful laugh, and it was nice to have a change.

While they ate, Fred teased her about her rule breaking tendencies, citing as evidence her encounter with the troll, her illicit brewing of polyjuice and her ongoing journey towards the liberation of threatened magical creatures. Hermione laughed; loving that he remembered so many details of her adventures. Fred grinned back, reached for the wine and poured them both another glass. He made a toast to future creations and she filled him in on news about their mutual friends who were still at school. 

Once they had licked the last bits of their meal from their fingers, they went back down to the work room of the back of the shop to check their potion. Deciding that it needed another half hour, Fred lifted Hermione onto the workbench, causing her to ask him why it was that he and his twin seemed to feel it okay to carry her around and place her on bits of furniture. He laughed, saying that it was probably because they had always done that with Ginny, and Hermione’s heart sunk at his words, wondering if she could ever move herself out of the role of sister and into the role of girlfriend or partner or even lover. And then, when she thought about the tall, athletic witches that Fred had been friendly with at school, she realised that that wasn’t especially likely. 

On any other day, that thought might have made her sad. But her proximity to the man with whom she had shared her heart and soul was energising Hermione in ways that she hadn’t even known were possible. And Fred continued to be delightful company. They laughed endlessly while making the potion and, even more happily for Hermione, she and Fred had engaged in witty, interesting conversation on a whole range of topics, from theoretical arithmancy to new ideas for products. They had even started another brew, based on Hermione’s pointing out that it would be most helpful to create something that would help tame curly hair, and Fred’s suggestion of a combination of ingredients that she agreed might just work.

That evening, Hermione had experienced emotions that she hadn’t previously realised were missing from her life. When Fred casually touched her, here and there, in the process of brewing together, she felt energised, and by the time she hugged him goodbye and flooed back to Hogwarts, she felt warm, dizzy and satisfied. She had had a truly wonderful evening and so when, the next morning, she sat next to the man who had made it happen, she decided to be honest with George. 

“It was more than nice," she added. "It was lovely, thank you,” she said, sincerely. “But,” Hermione continued, “you need to stop trying to matchmake, George.” She tried to look stern. Which she always found difficult with the twins. In part because they were so unfailingly cheerful, and in part because, with them, she was always either looking at the face that she loved, or looking at a face which very closely resembled the face that she loved.

George nodded. “I know. Sorry.” He did look a bit contrite, she thought, and she reached for his hand. 

“What you said in the pub made me panic and want to run away. What I’ve done feels so big,” she said. "And I’m still trying to understand it myself, and get my head around it. I’m not ready to have him know, George. And I know you’re trying to help,” she continued. “You’re just not very subtle.”

George took her hand. 

“I can’t promise I’m not going to try to keep helping in the longer term,” he said, with a cheeky grin that made Hermione roll her eyes and laugh. “Because,” he leaned in, “I’m a hopeless romantic and you and Fred is something I want more than anything. But I will tone it down for now, I promise. I can see I’m just going to chase you away otherwise, and I really don’t want that,” he finished.

“Thank you,” she replied. 

“If I back off on the matchmaking,” he reiterated, “will you still keep coming over and working with us?”

“Of course,” Hermione replied. “I’d like that too.” 

The evening she had spent in Fred’s company had led her to realise that it made her feel so much better to spend time with Fred. Even if they were just laughing and putting their heads together to solve potion problems. And, when Fred had walked through her dreams that night, offering her his arm as they strolled together along a moonlit beach, she had felt more contentment, and less yearning.


	7. The Sofa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your chapter for the weekend - enjoy! :-) As an antidote to all the other rubbish that's going on in the world, I bring you cuddling, wedding plans and a mention of Deamus (you're welcome).
> 
> I am loving reading and replying to all your comments, thank you. Please keep them coming on this and any other fics you're enjoying and I promise that I will keep this coming every couple of days to keep us warm and entertained while so many of us are isolated or just feeling generally weird about world events. Sending happy thoughts and fairy dust to you all ❤️❤️

November 6th, 1998

Within a few weeks, a routine had formed. Hermione would work for WWW after classes on Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings. After leaving a note in the absence scroll to let the Hogwarts staff know where she was, she would floo directly to the shop, use the staff room to change into more comfortable clothes, and work with the twins on developing, perfecting and making products. She still had time to do her homework, and was actually getting in some good potions practice, which was sure to help her with her practical NEWT. And George kept his promise and toned down his matchmaking.

Mostly.

On the third Friday evening, Angelina came over, having apparently had a craving for some of the biscuits that she knew Molly always sent over for her boys. When they saw her approaching, Fred and George had made a quick decision to leave the potions under a stasis charm until the next day and take the evening off instead. Hermione looked at George, wondering if this was planned, but she found his expression to be unreadable, and decided that she was being overly suspicious. A night of relaxation away from her homework would probably do her good, she decided. And Ginny might even let her off from sitting in the cold quidditch stands quite so much over the weekend.

“It went better than we thought,” Angelina told her when Hermione had asked how all their parents had taken the news of her pregnancy. “Though it helped a lot to tell Molly that we were making a plan for getting married. Keep the boys’ birthday free; that’s the date we’ve picked."

Angie smiled as she saw Hermione trying to work out the dates in her head.

"I'll have definitely had the baby by then,” she confirmed, as the two witches waited for Fred and George to clear up the work room. "But I'd rather that way around than get married around Christmas when I'm looking like a bus!" She rubbed her tummy. "Mum and Molly are going to do everything, and they've promised to keep it small and not too fussy. I just need to turn up and hand over the baby for the day. It'll be great!"

All three of them insisted that Hermione join them upstairs in the flat, explaining that they had recently been given a muggle DVD player by Dean and Seamus. Their friends had confessed their love for each other soon after the battle and were going into business together once they graduated. They had been inventing just as hard as Fred and George and wanted to test their innovative battery system in a variety of magical settings before they launch it for sale. Amazingly, they had already persuaded Molly to let him install one in The Burrow, and apparently she was avidly spending the dark evenings watching it while finishing up all of their Christmas jumpers. “Your Mam likes BBC period dramas,” Seamus had drawled when he had finished setting it all up, “but I’ve brought you some films with a bit more action,” he grinned.

The long-legged Weasley twins had made a decision early in their tenancy to buy two large sofas rather than argue over who sat where. And Angelina was very clear that she wanted to snuggle up with the biscuit tin and George, who loved to run his hand over her tummy while chattering softly to their baby. He had recently taken to giving his son or daughter a quiet running commentary of what was happening in the world, in the shop and on the TV. When asked, he would explain that he was preparing their child to be ready to jump in and enjoy life from the minute they arrived earthside. 

So it was only natural that Hermione would share Fred’s sofa. The two were tired, and both began to slide their legs towards the middle of the sofa as the film played, until Fred decided that they should both be more comfortable. 

“Come here, love,” he said, beckoning Hermione until she sat up and moved to perch on the edge of their sofa. Fred lazily summoned a couple of pillows from his bedroom, arranged them to form a comfy nest for both their heads and then scooped Hermione into his arms before stretching himself out, her back snuggled against his chest. George looked over briefly, managing to give her a quick wink when Fred wasn’t looking. She just shook her head at him, knowing that Fred’s gesture was purely platonic and about comfort, not romance. But, she thought, at least they had reached the point where it had become something that she and George could smile about together. 

Hermione wouldn’t have been able to tell you what the film was about if it was the key topic on one of her NEWTS. Spending a couple of hours laying in Fred Weasley’s arms with her head resting on a Fred-scented pillow was possibly the most pleasant experience of her life to date. After seeing Harry rise from the dead, of course, but that was unparalleled. Having Fred's arm around her on her birthday had made her feel safe and warm. Spending evenings together, with the occasional physical contact as they worked on products and potions, was even better. That always ensured her a great night’s sleep. But Hermione had truly had no idea that being cuddled against Fred’s body for a couple of hours could make her feel so blissful. 

She was equally amazed to realise that the positive effects of spending an evening in his arms would last for days. When Ginny remarked on her lighter mood, a part of Hermione desperately wanted to tell her friend that being cuddled by Fred had felt like having her own magical battery supercharged, just like Seamus and Dean were doing with the artificial magical cores that powered their TVs. Instead, she wittered on about how much she had enjoyed spending time with her parents at the weekend, now that their hours of conversation with the counsellors at St Mungo’s had led to them understanding Hermione’s decision to modify their memories, even if they did not fully agree with it.

But, from then on, Hermione was less reticent to hug the twins, and she even began to initiate it. The positive benefits and sense of relief that she gained from the experience had begun to outweigh her fears that, if she hugged him too much, Fred would realise how she felt about him and things might change for the worse. 

She would always deliberately reach for George first, and give him a long squeeze. Hermione would smilingly tolerate the deep chuckle that she could feel in his chest, knowing that the cheeky git had worked out that she felt that hugging him first gave her carte blanche to then wind her arms around Fred. Each time she moved her attention to the older twin, she would rest her cheek on Fred’s chest, right over the mark that she had placed over his heart. In a gesture that went completely unnoticed by the man himself, but always touched George, Hermione’s face would fleetingly take on an expression of peace and contentment that George never saw in any other situation. And he was almost certain that Fred's breathing slowed in response to her being in his arms.

But whether that was true or a product of his hopes and imagination, the sight of Fred and Hermione holding each other never failed to bring a lump to George's throat. He hoped beyond hope that, one day, Hermione would feel able to finally tell his brother how she felt and what she had done.


	8. The Godparents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! Here's your next installment of Salve Amor, and I hope it's a nice antidote to these crazy times. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all your lovely comments; I'm going to reply to the latest ones later today. I hope you're doing OK, wherever you are in the world. I'd love to know where everyone is reading this from; even just the continent, if you don't want to be specific! I'm in the UK and I live near to The Burrow. So I can confirm that it is still standing, and occupied by Molly and Arthur, who enjoy hosting Sunday dinners and having grandchildren stay whenever possible :D ;-)
> 
> And if you've just joined us and want to know what's happening, this is a nice, calm Fremione soul bond fic that will be about 18 or 19 chapters long that I'm currently writing and updating every couple of days from my own isolation to help us through these weird times.

February 14th, 1999

Hermione had never really thought of herself as maternal, but she found herself far more interested in Angie’s pregnancy than she could have imagined. She had very little spare time over the next few months, what with revising, finishing – and passing – her first NEWTS a week before Christmas and then heading home to her parents’ house for the holidays. Then there were her evenings in the shop with Fred, and sometimes George. Hermione’s contact with Fred continued to be delightful but strictly friendly, but she grew to love chatting birth and babies with Ange. She and George had bought a house, with an in-built hot tub in the master bathroom that Angie had already designated as the place where her baby would be born. Her midwife had advised an open mind, just in case she felt differently at the time, and Angie had just smiled. Later, when George was showing the midwife to the floo, he had made a friendly joke about how, between them, Angelina and Hermione were the most determined women he knew. He felt it was only fair to warn the woman, who seemed very kindly.

Christmas was wonderful, but Hermione missed Fred. She stayed with her parents, knowing that this was important for the rebuilding of her relationship with them, and made just a couple of trips to The Burrow over the holidays. George, bless him, had immediately engineered her onto the sofa next to Fred on both occasions, having picked up that something good happened for Hermione when they had physical contact. 

“Here, love, you look knackered,” he said, when he saw her looking pale and slightly under the weather on a day when she hadn’t been with Fred for a while. “Come here.” He indicated Fred’s lap and levitated a pillow onto it, encouraging her to lie down. Hermione looked at Fred enquiringly, and he simply smiled and nodded his head in the direction of his legs.

“Well, his IS taken,” he said, nodding towards George’s lap, which was now occupied by a very pregnant Angelina. “It’s not your fault he thinks he owns mine as well.” 

The look that Angelina gave Hermione once the four of them were settled together on the sofa left the younger witch in no doubt at all that George had told her. Angelina immediately realised from Hermione’s shocked response that Hermione knew she knew, and she pulled a series of faces that somehow expressed apology, care and a promise of privacy in just a few expressions. Hermione nodded. With the way things were going, and the fact that she still hadn’t been able to properly unravel her thoughts about what she had done, and what she might do about what she had done, it might not be a bad thing to have someone else to talk to. And, as much as she loved Ginny, Angelina was probably a better bet, and less likely to tell Fred herself.

But nothing was said over the holidays, and George was rightly focused on Angie and house preparation and on becoming a dad, which meant that Hermione could slip quietly back to school and her routine without facing any tricky questions. 

The first few weeks of the year went quickly. There was revision, for a start and, on the evenings that she was in the castle and not at the shop, Hermione coped with the long Scottish winter nights by taking to her bed after dinner with a book. Ginny was immediately concerned, but Hermione pulled her friend into bed with her one evening and explained that, with everything that had happened, she really did just feel the need to hibernate and sort her head out. “I’ll emerge in the spring,” she promised, “like a bear.” When Ginny didn’t immediately understand that reference, Hermione owled her mum and had her favourite childhood reading book sent over the very next day. That night, she read Ginny the story of how bears sleep through the winter to recover, before reappearing in the spring. “I need to get my head around everything that has happened, Gin,” she said. “Think about what I want from life now I don’t have to fight anymore. But I’ll be out of my duvet when the days get longer again, promise.”

Hermione’s hibernation ended with the news, delivered to Ginny by owl at breakfast on Valentine’s Day, that Angie and George’s baby had been born. In the tub, just as Angie had wanted, although it had apparently involved a bit of a sprint from the loo, where she had been pushing. Angie’s midwife, who had by now become a very dear friend, had been gently teasing her about it ever since. Hermione found out later that Angie’s labour had been really long at the beginning and then very fast at the end. She was cheerfully blaming George for this, although no-one was very clear on why.

Hermione and Ginny flooed to Angie and George’s house, where they found a mass of redheads gathered round the couple’s bed. Hermione had remembered at the last minute to run up to her room and collect the baby’s presents; a brand-new copy of the hibernating bear story book that she so loved, a gingery-coloured teddy (which she had charmed so that it couldn’t be turned into anything else) and a pair of bootees. She had painstakingly knitted those while watching DVDs with the twins and Angelina through the winter. Hermione had drawn on her experience of knitting hats for elves and had been aided by Fred, who held her wool and passed her drinks when she wanted them so that she wouldn’t be at risk of dropping stitches. George had alternately felt unbelievably touched by the sight of the two of them being so snuggly and domestic, and unbelievably frustrated at the sight of the two of them being so utterly fucking crap at getting together. Hermione wouldn’t be honest with Fred, and Fred wouldn’t just look around him and see that the witch who spent three evenings a week in his company was a much better match for him than the parade of nice-but-not-Hermione witches that the oblivious idiot dated for a couple of weeks each before realising that they weren’t the one for him.

But George was growing tired of not matchmaking and he had a new plan. And this was a good one. Probably because Angelina had helped him come up with it and she had agreed that it couldn’t really be described as matchmaking at all.

“I’m glad you’re all here at the same time,” he said, addressing the room as baby Roxanne slept at Angelina’s breast. “Fred, Ginny, Hermione,” he continued, finding it hard to look away from his daughter, “Ange and I would like to ask you to be Roxanne’s Godparents, if you would?”

All three were delighted with that idea, and eagerly accepted. Fred insisting that the double whammy of this honour and the fact that, genetically, Roxanne could technically be considered half his (or so Hermione had joked when she had explained DNA over a cauldron of ‘toil and trouble’ sweets last week) enabled him to claim the first cuddle. 

Molly had been very happy, but she had also expressed a bit of surprise. “It’s more normal to ask couples to be Godparents,” she said. “Or at least one couple…”

“Well,” Angelina replied, without giving the tiniest hint of surprise at Molly’s remark, “when have you known George to be interested in normal?!”

At that moment, Hermione realised that their choice was more unorthodox within the wizarding world than she realised. Molly wouldn’t have commented otherwise. But she could also tell that it was somehow a bit to do with her and Fred. Not that she could work out how. The baby naming ceremony would only be one day, so that wasn’t exactly a prime dating opportunity. 

“And besides,” George was saying to his mum, as smoothly as if he had practised the line. Which, knowing that Molly would be bound to raise this, he had. “Given that Godparents are morally obliged to babysit, we thought we would spread the work a bit more fairly among the family!”

“Very sneaky,” Hermione breathed when she hugged George hello three weeks later, arriving at their house early so that Angelina could show her how to cup feed Roxanne the milk she had expressed and left in the fridge. He had just informed her that Fred was coming over to help as well. “I have to say, this is a very original not-matchmaking idea.” She shook her head as George simply grinned in response before loading the kitchen worktop with the snacks they were leaving for her and Fred to enjoy.

“Feel free to fall asleep on the couch if you like,” he called to the pair of them, as the new parents were finally ready to leave the house. Roxy had fallen asleep and was snuggled into her basket. “Not that we’re planning to be late, but we’ll just cover you up and wake you in the morning!”

Hermione looked at the sofa, which had been enlarged and contained a couple of freshly laundered pillows for their comfort. The only other chair in the room had been piled high with Roxanne’s clothes and toys, effectively rendering it unusable. She shook her head, feeling a twinge of joy at the lengths that George was prepared to go to in order to have her and Fred squished up together on pieces of furniture.

“Well, this looks cosy!” Hermione turned to see Fred’s smiling face as he entered George and Angie’s living room. He vaulted the sofa and landed on one end, reaching for a pillow and placing it on his lap. “Come on then, love,” he said, patting the pillow and indicating that she should lay down and rest her head on it. “We might even get halfway through the next Indiana Jones film before we need to practice our cup feeding skills!”

It was the most pleasurable kind of torture. Not the first hour of watching the film while laying cocooned in Fred’s arms. That was a semi-regular experience by now, and one which Hermione enjoyed. But the next hour of cuddling and feeding Roxanne, while Fred made them both a cup of tea and then sat back down, wrapping one of his long legs around Hermione’s back so that he could get as close to his beloved goddaughter as possible while watching her take tiny sips from the little cup that Hermione was holding? Agonising. Looking into his big, soft brown eyes and wondering whether they would ever hold the same tender look while watching her hold his baby to her breast? Heart-wrenching. Seeing his pupils wide and full of love for his niece and imagining that, someday, they might be just as dark for her, albeit in a different way? Hermione swallowed, glad that she could pass any show of unwanted emotion off as love for the tiny witch who was in her arms.

“You’re broody,” Fred whispered, seeing Hermione’s eyes.

“Hardly,” she whispered back, although he noticed that her smile didn’t drop as she looked up at him.

“Yes, you are,” he said, decisively. “It’s nothing to be ashamed off.” He gave his finger to Roxanne and shrugged. “She makes me broody too … don’t you, cherub?”

“Well,” Hermione swallowed. “Maybe,” she conceded, “but I’m not sure that’s on the cards for me.”

“Don’t be silly!” Fred’s voice was a bit louder, and Roxanne was startled. “Sorry, love,” he whispered, stroking the baby in apology, as she went back to her milk. “Don’t be silly,” he repeated, in a softer voice. “You’re a third of the Golden Trio,” he said. “You’re bright, and beautiful, and fun to be with. Any wizard would be lucky to have you. Or,” a look of concern crossed his face, “is that not what you meant?” His eyes flicked to her arm, where he knew her scar was, and then back to her face. “You can have babies, can’t you?”

Hermione nodded quickly. “As far as I know,” she said. “As far as any witch knows before she tries, that is. I just meant, well, I need to find the right wizard first.” And that, she thought, would be the tricky bit. She thought quickly, and smiled. “I think I need to be a bit more open than I have been, to be honest. Maybe go on a few dates,” she smiled. Would he take that hint? 

Fred nodded. “That’s a great idea,” he said, his mind vaguely registering that she had said dates in the plural. “Well, let me know if you want to know which are the single wizards from my year…”

“Hmmm,” said Hermione, her heart sinking as she realised that, despite their proximity and physical affection and deep friendship, she was spectacularly failing to do anything which would have Fred see her as a woman he might one day want to date. “Maybe. I need to think about it, but thanks.”


	9. The Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and Happy Wednesday! I have a bumper, extra-long chapter for you today, which I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the continuing messages; I love that you're still chatting to me, and it's that which is spurring me on to update so frequently. I'm still catching up with my replies on the last chapter, as I have loads of comments on this and Fremione and the Weasleys, which I updated yesterday. (Hooray!) But I promise that, if you've left a happy comment, I'll write back :-)
> 
> Next update Friday. Be safe.

April 1st, 1999

George and Angelina had chosen to get married on the twins’ birthday. According to George, this was because it fitted well with things at the shop and would always ensure that their anniversary was marked with fireworks. As far as Angelina was concerned, it was a guarantee to always ensure that George would remember the date.

The day itself was enjoyed by all, and most of all by Molly, whose role was to hold Roxanne at any time that she wasn’t feeding or being carried around in Fred’s arms. Roxy made no bones about the fact that Fred was her favourite adult after her parents, with Hermione a close second. Hermione liked to tease Fred that Roxy’s preference was simply the result of her being too tiny to realise that he wasn’t actually her dad. Fred would grin down at her and retort that Hermione was only jealous because Roxy already preferred quidditch to books. Angelina and George would watch the two of them cuddling Roxy between them, having a quiet, friendly disagreement about whether their Goddaughter would rather be read a storybook or the write-up of the most recent quidditch game, and shake their heads. They had even given up betting on when the two oblivious idiots would get themselves together, as they had had to adjust their picks so many times. Fred was still half-heartedly meeting witches who he would date for a week or two before he decided that they weren’t for him, and Hermione was focused on taking more NEWTS, considering potential careers and avoiding conversation about Fred. 

It was just as well that Roxy spent the wedding day with her grandmother, because the happy occasion caused George to feel far more emotional than anyone would have predicted. Especially as none of them knew how very close he had come to standing at the altar by himself. As he stood at the front of the wedding arch in The Burrow’s garden, waiting until Angelina was ready to appear, he glanced over at Fred, who stood by his side, in matching robes.

At that moment, Fred was taking the piss out of Charlie. The dragon keeper had been made to wear a suit and have his hair cut again by his mother, despite the fact that Lauren, his pregnant muggle fiancée, had accompanied him to the wedding. Lauren just thought Molly was funny and, much to Fred’s delight, simply stood by and laughed while Charlie’s mother whipped him into shape. When the freshly-shorn redhead turned to Lauren in mock horror, she grinned and reminded him that he could return his hair to normal as soon as they left, promising that she would make it worth his while. 

As he watched the banter between Charlie and Fred, George was hit by an unexpected wave of emotion. He almost crumpled at the thought that he could, if not for Hermione, have been doing this alone. Not even having his other four brothers standing beside him would have made up for the loss of Fred as his best man and partner in mischief. Overwhelmed, George feigned a sneeze which he loudly blamed on the flowers. He covered his eyes with his hand and strode to the end of the row in which his family sat and knelt on the grass beside Hermione. 

“I know you’ll have a spare tissue, Mrs. Organised,” George said, audibly enough for everyone to hear and then turn away, to give him space. But, as she dug into her handbag, he grabbed her hand. “Thank you,” he said, three or four fat tears rolling fast down his cheeks. “I just realised what I owe you today. I would have been up there alone.”

Hermione turned away from the others to shield George from view and allowed a few tears of her own to fall at the thought. “You’re welcome … again,” she said, smiling weakly, and pulling out two tissues from her bag. “Your mother’s going to wonder what’s happening,” she said, wiping George’s face and deliberately not looking behind her to see if Molly was paying attention.

“Don’t you witches have some sort of spell for this?” he raised his eyebrows. 

“We do,” Hermione whispered back, and then cast a charm which cleaned both their faces and removed any evidence of crying. “Now,” she said, kissing him on the cheek, “you hold it together for that lovely witch, Mister, or I’ll be forced to send a tickling hex your way. I’ll cast the spell loudly in French and pretend that Fleur did it,” she warned, making him laugh. Fleur was also very pregnant and, these days, she alternated between being irritable and then apologising for being irritable.

“I love you,” he told her, taking her face in one hand and giving her a brotherly kiss on the cheek.

“I love you too. But go, before everyone thinks you’re leaving the mother of your child for me!”

A few hours later, at that point in weddings when everyone has just enough alcohol to begin saying what they really mean, but not so much that they will forget what happened, a slightly tipsy George had a question for Hermione. He had cut in to take her from his father’s arms, insisting that it was his turn to dance with her, and held her close enough to his body and danced her far enough from the centre of things so that no-one else could hear.

“How are you really doing with it, love?” 

“With your wedding? It’s lovely, George.”

“No, you daft goose,” he whispered into her ear. “With managing your half of a soul bond for nearly a year now, while my reprobate other half wanders about being oblivious to the fact that he’s your other half too, so to speak.”

“It was my choice,” she said, “and I stand by it.”

“Yes,” he sighed, “but are you happy about it?”

Hermione pondered that for a few bars of the song, and then sighed. “I still don’t want him to know and then feel he needs to be with me because of it, if that’s where you’re going with this.”

“I suppose it sort of was,” he said. “I just feel that, well maybe he would want to know, Hermione. You and Fred are such good friends now. Maybe when he does one day find out…” He trailed off. “Well, no,” he said, “I respect your decision and I promised to keep quiet, and I will. I just… Well,” he seemed uncharacteristically lost for words as he looked over at his twin. “Sometimes he seems really comfy with you, and I’m sure he’d be interested if you would just give him a hint, and yet he thinks you’ve friend zoned him. Did you know that?”

“I don’t even know what that means, George! Is it the same as cock blocking? I heard Charlie accuse Percy of that once. Before Lauren. Though,” she lowered her voice, “I do know Fred doesn’t see me as a woman. At least not in that way…” 

But George didn’t get a chance to answer. “What don’t you know?” Ginny’s voice was loud and she also sounded a bit the worse for wear as she tapped George’s shoulder. “I’ve come for a dance,” she said, making her brother stop moving.

“I’m dancing with Hermione,” he told her.

“So you are,” Ginny replied. “And now I want to dance with Hermione. Off you fuck,” she told him with a loud laugh at his shocked face, as she took Hermione into her own arms and began to waltz her around the floor.

“What don’t you know?” she asked again.

“Oh,” Hermione laughed, trying to make light of the conversation, “I don’t know what friend zoned means.”

“Ooooh, gossip!” Ginny looked around the room at her friends and family. “Who’s friend zoning who?”

“We didn’t get that far,” laughed Hermione, crossing her fingers in an appeal to have her lie forgiven. Thank Merlin Ginny had never shown any aptitude for legilimency. She’d be lethal. “You came over and danced me away!”

“Oh,” Ginny said, making a mental note to find George and ask him instead. Although, she realised, as she saw that he was now back with Angelina and Roxanne and very engrossed in simultaneously cuddling them both in his lap, that might not be an option this evening. “Well,” she continued, “it’s when you make clear to someone that you’re not interested in a relationship with them. You put them in the friend zone. You know, like you did with Ron. ‘I love you very much, but not in that way.’”

It was Hermione’s turn to say, “Oh,” again. Had she really done that to Fred? And when? If she could think back over everything she had said over the past few months, maybe she could work it out. As she tried to assemble her thoughts in the haze of the elven wine that she had enjoyed throughout the wedding feast, she realised this might be something that required some thought. As much as she didn’t want Fred to know about the spell that she had cast unless he was at least a little bit interested in pursuing something with her, she didn’t want him to think that she had closed off the opportunity forever. That wouldn’t do at all. 

Half an hour later, and after two dances with Fred, which were as delightfully torturous as ever, Hermione managed to get herself back into George’s arms to continue their conversation. 

“I didn’t mean to friend zone Fred,” she said, slowing as she spoke the still unfamiliar words. “But I can see how I did that, probably quite some time ago. And I’m really confused now. I don’t want to tell him what I did, but I do want to leave the door open. But now I feel like I’ve closed it. He offered to tell me who all the single wizards in your year were a few weeks ago.”

“Bugger,” George said, spinning her gently out before dancing her into a quieter area. “OK. But I do have a question or two. And I feel it’s my duty to ask them, as a friend.”

“Alright…”

“Alright. Question one. If Fred asked you on a date, would you go?”

“Of course,” said Hermione, looking surprised. “Why wouldn’t I? If Fred is attracted to me, then that would be brilliant. I just want him to like me for me and not because of the _salve_. I don’t want him to know about that beforehand and ask me on a date because, well, you know.”

George leaned closer to her ear. “Out of a sense of obligation or pity.” 

“Exactly.”

“OK.” The gently turned again. “And have you thought about, if you went on a date and then got together, when you would tell him? I mean,” George cheerfully dipped her before continuing, “would it be first date conversation, would you wait til it was time for a ring, or is it something you’ll save til your waters have broken and you’ve got him rubbing your back while your mum’s filling the birth pool for you? Make early labour a bit more exciting?”

Hermione laughed. “Just because you thought Angelina had a long labour with Roxy! Maybe you’d like me to tell him what I did just when she goes into labour next time … make things a bit less boring for you?”

“Actually, that would be great,” George grinned. Then, as he watched Hermione’s smile disappear as she considered his question, he let the grin fall from his face. 

“I don’t know,” she said, slowing down, and dropping her arms. She turned and sat in a nearby chair. “But I know you’re right. I’m worried that I’ve thought about it too much and left it too long and now there’s no way for this all to be OK…”

George was beside her in an instant. “Of course there is,” he said, locking his gaze with hers so that she could see the certainty in his eyes. “I have no doubt that you and my twin will get your happy ever after,” he said. 

Even, he thought, if I have to send you on a hundred dates with other wizards in a hundred sexy ball gowns to make him jealous. Or curse your wardrobe so every scrap of clothing you own turns into a bikini. Or get McGonagall or someone from the Department of Mysteries who would immediately recognise the mark to come for Sunday lunch and then banish Fred’s shirt in front of everyone. 

None of those were sensible options, he knew, but George Weasley was nothing if not imaginative. And he had already decided that, while he was happy to hold back for now, and while Fred was just experimenting, if his brother showed the slightest sign that he might be interested in another witch, then George was going to have to say something. Even if Hermione never forgave him for it. He just couldn’t let Fred marry anyone else. If that happened, and he later found out what Hermione had done, Fred would be just as heartbroken as Hermione herself.

“Look, love, that's why we asked you both to be Godparents,” he said. “You might not know, but under English wizarding law, you designate two of the Godparents to be the baby’s legal and magical guardians in case anything happens to you. Mum didn’t understand why we didn’t ask Ginny and Harry, or Bill and Fleur … an established couple, who could take Roxy into a proper family if ever she needed that.” He gave Hermione a smile. “We didn’t tell her, of course, but Ange and I believe in you and Fred so much, and even though you’re not together yet, we wanted you to be Roxy’s guardians because we know one day you’ll make a family…”

That wasn’t a lie. George had pondered this long and hard. 

George leaned forward and took Hermione into his arms as her eyes filled with tears at his words. She didn’t know if it was more at the sadness of the thought that something might happen to George and Ange, or at the happiness of the thought that the two of them believed so strongly that she and Fred might have a future together. “I’m so touched,” she managed, her hand going to her heart.

“I know.” he said. “Please think about it, love. At least think about telling him you think he's special.” 

“Okay,” she said. “I think you're right. I need to think about how I could show him I like him. In a romantic way. Not just because he makes me laugh and I admire the way he thinks about potions in such a creative way…” She paused. “I will think about it. Properly this time. Once I’ve sobered up.”

“Good,” he said. “You do that, love.” George knew from Ginny that Hermione had already spent the first few weeks of the year ‘thinking’ in her bed, although Ginny didn’t know what she was thinking about. She would doubtless have already intervened if she had even the slightest clue. 

George shook his head at Hermione, his grin and his hug indicating his love for her. He understood Hermione’s feelings, but it would have be so much easier if he could have been honest with his twin from that first day in the hospital. It was the only thing that he had ever lied about or hidden from Fred. As it turned out, he had only needed to make the ‘love-shaped rock’ joke once, in relation to Fred’s mark, and his brother had accepted and laughed about the coincidental shape and location of one of the scars that he had ended up with from the wall. But then, George thought, why wouldn’t he? Fred would never have dreamed that any witch loved him enough to cast a life-long, heart-giving, soul bonding charm in his direction. He was quietly confident that Fred would understand and forgive what he had done when he found out – they were closer than that – but he sorely wished he could tell his brother. But perhaps this time, Hermione would relent. He could see the look in Fred’s eyes when Hermione hugged him and her features relaxed into that peaceful state. And how happy he looked when the two of them gave Roxy one of the shared cuddles that she so loved. 

If only, he said to Angie when the two of them were alone, Hermione would take his word for the fact that Fred’s love and happiness would be genuine, and not the result of a sense of obligation. “If I can’t talk to Fred,” he said, “then I need to keep pushing her into doing that.” He could not, in good conscience, allow the witch who had saved his brother’s life to spend her own life without love. “I’m giving her a week to think about it while we’re on honeymoon,” he said to Angie, “and then I’m going to talk with her again. This has gone on for far too long now.”

George spent an entire half day of his honeymoon hiking along the beach with Roxy on his back, plotting how to best persuade Hermione to turn her thinking into action and actually talk to Fred. And then, just a few hours after the little family returned to England and before George was planning to sit Hermione down and say his piece, help arrived. In a most unexpected form.


	10. The Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning ... or whatever time of day it is with you when you get to this 😊 
> 
> Here's your latest chapter, with kudos, thanks and a big plate of cheesy grits to LSUSWEETIE. Y'all may know that I'm from the same bit of the world as the Weasleys. And I have been Brit-picking for friends from America, Australia and continental Europe for a while now. So I thought it might be fun to turn things around. This chapter features an American character, and LSUSWEETIE has kindly taken my original text, Louisiana-picked her thoughts and dialogue and helped me turn her southern 😆 💜 (Any errors will be mine, of course, and will probably have stemmed from my over-excitement about getting my new favourite word y'all into as many conversations as possible 😆)
> 
> I hope you enjoy. I'm SO enjoying chatting to you in the comments, thank you, and I will update again over the weekend 😊

April 9th, 1999

Fred closed the flat’s door with his hip, not wanting to stop kissing the witch whose brown, curly hair had so captivated him all evening. She moaned a little as he stroked her neck with his fingers, and he wondered if she was really just interested in the drink and a bit more kissing, or whether she might want a bit more than that.

They had met an hour and a half ago in a Diagon Alley pub. Which was pretty good work, Fred thought, given that he had only slipped out for a couple of beers. Life in the evenings was quieter with George married, and if none of the others were around then he often nipped out for a quick pint, happy to chat to whoever he came across.

This evening it had been a funny, witty, curly-haired witch called Jessica, and all that Fred knew was that she was the American equivalent of an unspeakable; based in Louisiana and in the UK for a week on some sort of Ministry exchange program. So there was no possibility of anything long-term, but she had been clear that she was interested in a bit of cultural exchange as far as learning whether there were any major differences in kissing between the continents.

Thus far, they had been speaking the same language, so to speak.

But, Fred reflected, when he was laying alone in his bed, just an hour later, it had become weird as he was taking his shirt off, and he still couldn’t work out why. It probably wasn’t anything to do with his shirt, and Jessica had certainly seemed to appreciate the state of his chest, as she had gasped and stroked it for a moment. But then she had looked up at him and whispered an apology for having made a mistake in coming back to the flat with him.

“I’m so sorry,” she had said, “but I can’t do this. I need to go.”

“Why’s that, love?” Fred wasn’t cross, but he was a bit confused.

Jessica looked at him, trying to gauge what he knew. Her unspeakable training had immediately told her what the cross-shaped mark over his heart signified, and she only needed to brush her fingers lightly over his bare chest to know that the witch who put it there was alive, well and unrefutably in love with the man in front of her. She frowned. There was a code, she felt. If you were a modern, enlightened witch, anyway. And she wasn’t going to break it, no matter how sexy a wizard might be.

It was clear to her, however, that Fred himself was either incredibly callous – which she couldn’t believe from the way he had talked about his family and friends in the pub – or completely oblivious to the significance of that mark. Not to mention how it had got there. Ugh! Damn her sense of integrity. She'd been in desperate need of a hook-up, and Fred seemed like he would be the right kind of guy for the job. He was smoking hot and came across as genuinely nice. She bet he knew exactly how to treat a lady in bed too.

“It’s hit me that I’ve had a bit much to drink,” she said, “and I’m knackered. Isn't that what y'all say over here?”

Fred laughed. “Yeah, something like that.” He took a step back, taking his hands from her body, and Jessica was pleasantly surprised. But Arthur Weasley had drilled his boys well, and not one of them would ever have pushed a woman once she expressed doubt.

“And,” she added carefully, wrinkling her nose while she framed the words in her head, “I can’t always turn off my ability to know things.” She raised her eyebrows at him, making him unsure as to whether she was joking or not. “Can I tell you something that is going to sound crazy, but which I promise is good advice?”

“OK,” he shrugged, pulling his shirt back on and sitting down in a chair. Might as well be comfy if this was going to be a verbal conversation rather than a physical one.

“There’s a witch out there who loves you, cher. Very much. Don’t ask me how I know, because I can’t tell you.” She saw his raised eyebrows and pulled a funny face. “Secret unspeakable powers,” she joked. “But believe me that I’m right. I kinda wish it weren’t true,” she laughed, looking him up and down with an expression of regret on her face, “but I’m too much of a romantic to hit on another witch’s love.”

“I’m not seeing anyone, I promise,” Fred protested, earning himself a friendly pat on his arm.

“I know,” Jessica replied. “But she’s out there regardless.”

Fred considered this, and decided to believe her. It crossed his mind to think that this was a line spun because she didn’t know how else to say no, but Jessica had been straightforward, confident and clear all night. He couldn’t imagine why she would change tack now. “Do you know who it is?”

She shook her head. “I don’t. Sorry. But…” She spoke slowly; carefully. “I can maybe tell you how to go about finding her, though. If you want that?”

Fred’s mind was reeling. “I do. I would. Yes, please.”

“It might be easier than you think,” she said, although she was going on gut instinct and a bit of commonsense detective work as well now, and not just the arcane wisdom of her training. “You likely already know her; I imagine she’s a good friend. Likely has been for a while.” 

That was an easy assumption, she thought. The spell had been cast several months ago, she knew. Probably in the final battle, or thereabouts, so probably by someone who already knew him well enough to make a lifetime commitment to save his life. It would be hard for the caster of this spell to stay out of Fred’s vicinity for too long after it was cast, if she loved him that much. And besides, the scar itself was gently buzzing with magic, at least to those who knew what to feel for. That meant the bond was regularly fed by contact with the witch who had saved Fred. And, Jessica thought, working hard to resist the temptation to stroke the scar from the _salve_ spell once more, just to feel its power again, if she hasn’t told you about this, she has more willpower and grace than I do. She realised, with a jolt of admiration, that she would very much like to meet the witch who had marked Fred Weasley’s chest. 

“Okay,” she continued, ready to summarise her thinking. “She’s someone close to you, and I would bet that she’s an incredible witch. Puts others before herself, and would do anything for her friends. Now, this might not make sense right now … maybe you’ve never thought of her as more than a friend, but when you hold her, you’ll … well, you’ll just feel content. Comfy.”

“Comfy?” Fred needed to check that he had heard correctly.

“Comfy,” Jessica confirmed. “That might be why you haven’t thought of her in a different way before. I dunno,” she shrugged, adjusting her own clothes. “But please, for the sake of my noble sacrifice this evening, think about it. And if your mind settles on someone who fits that description, ask her on a date. And be clear with her that it’s a romantic date, if the two of you are currently just friends. Trust me,” she said, smoothing herself down and then standing on tiptoes to give him one last kiss on the cheek. Then, with another thought, she reached into her bag and pulled out a business card, which she handed him. “Please let me know if y’all get together … I need to know how this turns out.”

“How about I just invite you to the wedding?” He illustrated his joke with one last wink, but his mind was spinning.

“That would be great,” she said. “I’ll bring a date, so it won’t be weird.” With a kiss to his cheek, a shake of her head at the fact that she was walking out on a potentially great night and wink of her own, she turned to go. Leaving Fred wondering what on earth had just happened and cursing at how badly he had gone off his game.

Three hours later, Fred looked across at his bedroom window for the twenty-seventh time, wondering if there was any chance of sleeping before it got light. And then he sighed, because he knew that sleep wasn’t going to come before he acted on the single name that had been going through his mind since Jessica had left and he had fully processed her words.

Hermione. 

The witch who fit that description. The witch who was close to him; the incredible, caring witch who made him feel content when he held her … that was Hermione. Hermione who had friend-zoned him. Hermione who, until recently, had always claimed she didn’t want a relationship. And then talked about dates as if she wanted to check out the field, although she never had. Hermione whose presence in his arms had, as Jessica perceptively noted, always made him feel as if he had come home. To a hundred Christmases, a thousand bonfire night feasts and a million of his mum’s Sunday dinners all rolled into one.

Sighing for his future self, who he knew would be suffering from sleep deprivation by about 2pm, and was likely to receive little sympathy from his twin, who was currently permanently sleep-deprived, Fred pushed the covers back. He padded downstairs to the shop to send an owl to another witch with brown curly hair.


	11. The Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter is a small one. I know that some of you are keen to know what Fred wrote and what Hermione thinks about it, so here you are 😊
> 
> And the good news is that I am going to post another chapter tomorrow; it is more than twice as long as this and it will be Hermione and Fred's date 💜
> 
> Hope everyone is doing well and staying safe. Sending you happy Sunday morning wishes from the land of The Burrow, and still loving all your comments and chatting with you in our isolation, thank you 😊

April 10th, 1999. 8.50am.

“Do you know anything about this?” Hermione waved a note at George, who she had ambushed on his way into the twins' usual coffee shop the next morning. When he stopped at her table and saw the takeaway cups set there with his and Fred’s names already written on them, it was clear that she had planned and timed this perfectly to be able to have the maximum chatting time with George before Fred poked his head out of the shop door and looked down the Alley to see where he had got to. 

“What have I done?” he asked, pulling out a chair and turning it around before he sat on it. “Because I swear, I can’t be held accountable for my actions again until Roxy can go more than an hour without needing something. She’s entering a really clingy stage…” 

He gratefully accepted the coffee and muffin that Hermione pushed towards him and, after taking a sip of one and a bite of the other, he unfolded the parchment that she held out to him.

“Mione, love,” he spoke out loud as he peered at Fred’s barely readable scrawl. George was impressed that Hermione could make sense of it, and then remembered that she had months of experience in deciphering his handwriting while working with him and his notes in the shop. “I’d love to take you out somewhere special this evening. Just you and me. A proper date. Would you be up for that? I could pick you up at Mum’s at six. Please say yes? Yours, Fred.” 

George looked up. “Yours,” he said, slowly, with raised eyebrows and a suggestive smile that made pink spots appear on Hermione’s cheeks. “I don’t know anything about this, love,” he said, shaking his head very slightly. “Promise.”

Hermione stared at him for five whole seconds before deciding that he was telling the truth and dropping her gaze with a short nod. Then she lifted her own cup and took a sip. 

“What do you think it’s about?” George asked, when he realised that he had passed her test. 

His words elicited a shrug from the little witch.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It came in the night. I just wanted to find out whether you were in on it before I replied.” She picked up the other takeaway coffee cup, which had Fred’s name on it, and took a self-inking quill from her bag. George watched and then grinned, despite his tiredness, as she wrote, ‘I’d love to,’ on Fred’s cup, and then added an ‘H’ and a kiss underneath.

“Coming clean, then?” George joked, when he saw the symbol. It took Hermione a moment but, once she realised what he meant, she laughed.

“One step at a time,” she smiled, but she gave him a wink as she stood from the table. “Here, take him a muffin too. Don’t say anything, please,” she warned him as she stood, and he nodded. If Fred had finally grown a pair, it probably was best to keep his fingers crossed and not interfere.

“Promise. Again,” he said, causing Hermione to smile and then give him a hug, as his words reminded her of what a good and kind friend he had been to her since the day of the battle. And then, as George arranged the cups and muffins into his hands and stood to go back to the shop, Hermione reached out to touch his arm.

“I’ve thought about what you said,” she said, carefully tucking Fred’s note back into her bag. “I thought about it a lot, actually. And I had made a decision even before I got this. I’ll let you know how it goes,” she said, with a cheeky wink. 

Hermione turned to the door and opened it wide, letting George leave first, as he had his hands full. He leaned down and kissed her cheek and then, ever the gentleman, he then stood aside so that she could weave her way through the crowds first. As she walked away, George could have sworn that she had a slight sway to her hips as she walked down Diagon Alley.


	12. The Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we go ... I'm posting this early as a Monday morning treat and because we've all been waiting so long and patiently for these two oblivious idiots to hurry up and kiss! I'm sure that George is cheering along with us! And for someone who often has these two kissing by the end of chapter one, I've amazed myself at how long I managed to keep us entertained before we got there 😆
> 
> But there's still more to come! Hope you all had a good weekend and thank you (again) for all the lovely comments which are keeping me going through my isolation. Here's hoping that this helps you in yours 😊

April 10th, 1999. 6pm.

That evening, Fred arrived right on time. At Molly’s insistence, Hermione and Ginny had moved into The Burrow for the Easter holidays, with Hermione taking Bill and Charlie’s old room. “This is your room now,” Molly had told her. “For as long as you need it. Until you get married, if you like.” Hermione had decided not to reply to that at the time. Ginny and Harry were planning to wed in the summer, but Hermione smiled to herself when she realised that, if marriage was Molly’s criteria for moving out of The Burrow again, she and Arthur could end up with Hermione as a lodger for a very long time indeed.

Molly was delighted to see Fred, and immediately offered him a cup of tea. But Fred had years of experience in dodging Molly’s questions and avoiding delays. He pressed a small kiss to the cheek of both witches and then whipped Hermione into her summer cloak, steering her quickly out of the door and beyond the wards before his mother could ask why she was wearing a nicer outfit than she usually wore to help with potions at the shop. 

“I don’t have your long legs, Fred,” Hermione teased, trying and failing to keep up with him.

“Sorry!” He slowed, and offered her his hand to hold so that he couldn’t get too far ahead. “I’m just keen.” He leant down, closer to his ear. “I’ve been planning something nice all day.”

“Really?” She felt excitement at his words; a tiny jolt in her tummy.

“Really,” he winked, adding his grin as punctuation. “I made Georgie give me the afternoon off. Come on, we don’t want to miss the daylight!”

Hermione wanted to point out that, as they were leaving so early, they still had a good couple of hours of daylight left and she could easily make her special blue lights if he wanted to stay outside in the usually warm April evening, but she focused instead on enjoying Fred’s excitement. And not swooning in lust when he took her in his arms and lifted her slightly off the ground before apparating them both away.

When they landed, Hermione gasped at his work.

“Do you like it?” Fred asked, the grin on his face clearly indicating his delight in his efforts and his hope that she would enjoy them.

“I love it!” Hermione exclaimed, as she turned around in a circle to take in the view. Fred had brought them to the top of a hill, upon which he had built – or more likely transfigured – a deck and pergola, which housed a table set for a romantic dinner for two. He had even picked a few wildflowers and put them in a tiny vase. A few feet away, overlooking the view towards the west, sat a large sofa. When Hermione got closer to it, she saw that it was decorated with what she recognised as the pillows from his bed. Her tummy leapt at the thought that he might be planning to lay her down and cuddle her, like when they watched films at the flat. He had said a proper date in his note, after all.

“I didn’t bring the DVD player,” he said softly, coming up behind her and gently touching her back. It was as if he had read her thoughts, though Hermione knew that was impossible, even if they one day completed the soul bond. “I was hoping that the view and a glass of wine with me might be enough entertainment.”

“Oh Fred,” she said, looking into his eyes. “It’s gorgeous. Thank you for doing this for me.” It was hitting her that this was real; a real date with Fred, in which he might actually, finally be seeing her as a woman, despite her clumsiness in communicating her feelings to him over the past months. Her heart soared.

He moved closer to her. “Gods, I know I’m supposed to wait til the end of the evening, or at least the end of the meal,” he said, “but I don’t think I can. Hermione,” he continued. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He took both of her hands in his and got down on one knee. When she looked shocked, Fred responded with a laugh and a quick shake of his head that told her not to worry; this wasn’t a proposal of marriage. “I know you’ve said that you’re not looking to get involved right now, but something happened to me last night that I don’t fully understand, and it’s made me want to ask you … would you be open to considering this to be a real date, Hermione? With maybe some kissing at the end? Or,” his eyes fleetingly widened, “maybe even some kissing at the beginning, so I don’t have to spend all evening wondering if there’s going to be kissing at the end?”

Hermione was nodding and smiling even before he had finished the sentence. She was determined that she wasn’t going to lose another chance. “I’m open to kissing you at the beginning AND the end, Fred,” she said, confidently. She had fantasised about a moment like this for so long, and, if this was it, she wasn’t going to mess it up by hesitating or being coy. “And in the middle if you like.” She raised her eyebrows playfully, and then cast her eyes to her right. “As long as I get some of that gorgeous-looking food at some point,” she smiled, indicating the table, which was emitting an amazing aroma even through the warming charms. She took a step forward and pulled at Fred’s hands until he stood on his feet before her. “Come down here then,” she instructed, and reached for his shoulders as he wound his long arms around her waist and moved his lips towards hers. 

Finally, Hermione thought, with a deep sense of satisfaction that ran through her soul. It was going to happen. The kiss that she had been waiting for.

At first, it felt like everything was happening in slow motion. Fred’s lips meeting her own, causing a charge of magic to run through her entire body. Much later, she would learn that Fred felt something similar in his heart. But, in the moment, there was just kissing. Soft kissing, at first. Fred moved one hand up from her waist, moving it to Hermione’s cheek and tilting her face very gently. Then, at last, his lips were pressing harder against hers, teasing her lips to open for him, and it felt like heaven. They both moaned softly when their tongues met, and gently slid together; tasting each other for the first time. 

The sensation of having Fred’s mouth pressed against hers made Hermione dizzy. She inhaled the scent of him and wove her hands around his neck and shoulders; pulling him closer; wanting to ensure she stayed on her feet as much as she wanted to deepen the kiss. Fred obliged on both counts, keeping one hand firmly around her and slipping the fingers of his other hand into her curls. He smiled at the thought that they might get lost in there forever, but decided not to share that; this wasn’t a time for conversation. It was a time for stroking Hermione’s face, for gently exploring her mouth and tongue with his own; for soft noises that let her know that he definitely didn’t see her as occupying any kind of friend zone. As he kissed her, Fred realised that he never really had; that she had always been there, in his heart, but he just hadn’t let himself fully see that until last night.

Eventually, they paused and slowly broke apart. “Gods,” Fred whispered, big, dark eyes staying close to Hermione’s own. She gave a soft huff of breath, still holding onto him. “I should have kissed you years ago…”

Hermione wasn’t sure how to reply to that, so she gave another soft huff and replied by stroking her fingers across his lips and cheeks; trying to tell him in gestures and by the soft look in her eyes what she couldn’t currently find the words for.

But Fred hadn’t lost his words. “I really like you, Hermione,” he breathed. “I didn’t even realise how much I like you until last night. Something weird happened.” He shook his head, gently, in wonder. At both his experience last night and, now, his experience with Hermione. “Really weird, actually, love, and I’d kind of like to tell you about it, because if anyone will be able to make sense of it, it’ll be you, but…”

Fred swallowed. He was no clearer on why this was happening than he had been at three in the morning. He just knew that his eyes had suddenly been opened, and his world had shifted. In a way that made everything a bit happier; a bit more brightly-coloured than usual. Which was saying something, given that he spent all day in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. 

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked.

“Yes,” he assured her. “It’s great. This is great.” He looked at her tenderly, not understanding how this could have happened to him overnight. It was as if his feelings for Hermione were like a firework that had fallen down the back of a shelf; he hadn’t even known they were there but, once they had been lit by his realisation and her kiss, they had exploded into a thousand happy sparks. And now they had been uncovered, nothing would ever be the same. “It’s just all a bit odd…”

He trailed off, and Hermione rewarded his monologue with another gentle kiss.

“I really like you too, Fred,” she said, stroking small circles over his heart as she finally found her words again. She looked at the table, thinking that a bit of food and drink might help bring some normality into the situation. “Shall we talk while we eat? You can tell me all about it. And,” she added, taking a deep breath, “there’s something I need to be honest with you about as well…”


	13. The Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, happy Wednesday and happy birthday Fred and George :D 
> 
> Thank you for the bumper crop of comments on the last chapter - I am SO loving hearing from you :D Here's your next installment, with another one to come on Friday :-) 
> 
> And quick PSA for anyone who uses this site as a visitor and doesn't have a login. Apparently the increase in traffic means that things might not update as quickly for people who aren't logged in. From what I can tell, it won't make much difference to you being able to enjoy this or other fics but, if you want to, you can request an invitation to get a username at https://archiveofourown.org/invite_requests

April 10th 1999. 6.15pm.

The starter, Fred informed Hermione, was to be served not up the table but on the sofa. He settled her comfortably into one end, plumping one of his pillows for her and kneeling before her to take off her shoes so that she could put her feet up and be comfortable. When he was done, he leaned forward and gave her another quick kiss, full on her mouth, which made her sigh in happiness. Fred’s eyes were soft and dark as he looked at her. For two pennies, he would have forgotten the meal and just laid down on the sofa with her, but he had been working on her treat all day and she had said that she was hungry… 

He tried to focus on matters at hand. Next was a glass of wine for each of them and then, with a flourish of his wand, he uncovered a platter of cold meats, cheese, breads, dips and olives.

“Wow,” Hermione exclaimed, reaching for a large, stuffed olive. “This looks lovely, Fred. Very Mediterranean! And not something you picked up from your mum, I know!” Molly Weasley’s cooking was infamous, but she tended very much towards traditional British farm food, and was still slightly suspicious of certain shapes of pasta.

“Georgie and I like to try new restaurants,” Fred explained, “and I enjoy trying to recreate things we’ve enjoyed. Do you like it?” He reached to offer her another olive, which he had speared onto a cocktail stick, and Hermione leaned forward with parted lips, ready to take it in her mouth. Fred swallowed at the sensations the sight evoked in him. He couldn’t believe how sexy he was finding Hermione this evening. How had he missed this for so long? She had been there all the time; all the way through school and then three evenings a week in his workshop. He had eaten with her at every family dinner and event for years, and yet he just hadn’t had this awareness of how she made him feel. Until now.

“What?” she asked, putting her hand up to cover her mouth as she did, and making Fred smile at her manners. How, he thought, could anyone possibly think that she and Ron would have worked out? 

“Do you know what’s happening between us?” he asked, waving his hand to indicate the two of them. “I mean, I suppose I should ask whether you feel that something is happening between us first?”

“Yes, I feel it,” she confirmed. “And yes, I think I know what’s happening.”

“Good,” said Fred. “Because I had the weirdest experience last night, and it’s been bothering me ever since.

Hermione frowned; unsure what that could be about. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“In the interests of honesty,” he replied, carefully folding a piece of salami onto his last bite of a piece of bread and then topping it with a square of cheese, “I think I should.”

Fred gave just enough background about his encounter with Jessica to set the scene without tormenting Hermione with the physical detail, for which she was grateful, although he made sure to tell her that nothing happened beyond a few kisses. He then explained the odd things that Jessica had said to him when they got back to his flat. 

“I know she picked up something because she’s an unspeakable,” he said, “but I’ve been racking my brains all night and day to work out what it was. It’s not like they rely on divination,” he said, “so is it a prophecy? Or something else? Why did her words make me think of you all night? And why, now I’ve thought of you, can I not think of anything or anyone else?”

Hermione took a deep breath and reached out her hand. “Would you please hold my hand while I tell you? It’ll give me some reassurance that you’re not going to apparate away in shock.” She knew, rationally, that he could easily pull his fingers from hers if he was so inclined, but it would make her feel better.

Fred didn’t take the hand she offered. Instead, he moved the food and wine from in between them and held out his arms, so that she could climb into them. When she had settled next to him, he wrapped them around her and whispered his next words. “Tell me, love. I promise it’ll be okay. We’ll work with it, whatever it is.”

“I cast the _salve amor_ charm on you,” she said quickly, needing to get the confession out in one go. 

As she spoke, her thumb moved instinctively in a small cross shape over his shirt, tracing the location of the mark that she had left on his chest as she looked into Fred’s widening, confused eyes. 

“In the final battle. You were crushed by a wall, and you would have died otherwise.” She couldn’t help but begin to cry at the memory. “I couldn’t have that!” Fred would have smiled at the bossy tone in that phrase if the loud and erratic beating of his heart and the way it pulsed with love for Hermione hadn’t been taking his full attention. 

Hermione wiped her eyes, and Fred knew it was his turn to say something but, for once in his life, the words wouldn’t come. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, and realised that tears were falling from his own eyes. Eventually he managed a few words. “You saved my life?”

“Yes. It was the only way to bring you back.” She didn’t want to remember – or have Fred know, if he didn’t already – how the damage to his body was beyond the reach of healing spells on their own. It was bad enough that the thought had haunted her own nightmares for weeks after the final battle; it didn’t need to feature in his as well. “It was a split-second decision, and I‘m so glad I did it.” He could see the honesty of that statement in her eyes.

“You loved me enough back then to cast a _salve_ charm on me … that worked?” His voice was soft; full of wonder. He had paid attention in that fifth-year class too. “It doesn’t work unless you’re in love with the recipient.” He brought his own hand to his chest and it covered hers, holding it over the evidence of her love for him.

“I did love you enough, and I still do.” She gave him a smile through her tears. “And now I always will. But…”

Fred interrupted before she could finish that thought, his hand reaching for her face. “Why didn’t you tell me, love? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Hermione was relieved to see that he seemed confused at this rather than cross. And happy that he was now looking at her in almost exactly the same way he looked at Roxanne. Eyes wide and tender. Maybe there was hope for them yet…

“Only one person knew, and I made them promise to keep it a secret.” Fleetingly, Hermione wondered if she could get away with not telling him of George’s involvement, but immediately realised that she didn’t want to have secrets from Fred anymore. And George himself wouldn’t want that either. The younger twin had reassured her, on more than one occasion over the past few months, that he wasn’t worried that Fred would hold his secrecy against him. Especially given the circumstances in which he had promised it. They were far tighter than that, George had said.

“Georgie?”

She nodded.

A grin spread across Fred’s face and he briefly let go of her hand to open the top three buttons of his shirt so he could look at his skin.

“Fucking liar,” he chuckled. “A love-shaped rock, my arse!” He touched the mark that Hermione’s spell had left on him with his fingers and slowly shook his head before smiling up at her. “I said when I came round in the hospital that it looked like somebody might have loved me enough to _salve_ me. And the lying git laughed at me and said I was becoming as bigheaded as Percy! He said how unfortunate it was that a love-shaped rock had landed in the right place to boost my already over-inflated ego!”

Hermione was glad of the light relief, and happy to laugh with him. But then Fred’s eyes grew serious once more, and she looked away, afraid of what might come next.

“Why not tell me though?” he asked, reaching for her hand again. “It’s been nearly a year…” Hermione tried to tell herself to relax. Fred was cradling and stroking her, and she knew it wasn’t an accusation. He was just trying to understand.

“I didn’t want you to feel like you owed me some kind of life debt. Or that you needed to be with me out of gratitude or pity.” She took a breath and shrugged, choosing her next words carefully. “The trouble with the _salve_ charm is that, because it's a commitment to soul bond, you can’t ever love or marry another … it sort of takes away your chance to flirt and have a normal relationship. And that felt like too big a burden to place on you.”

“A burden?” Fred sounded incredulous. “A burden, love? Crikey…” He dropped her hand for a moment and pushed himself up from the sofa. He needed to move. This was a lot to take in.

As Fred stood, turned and looked towards the distant sea, Hermione’s heart sank. This was exactly what she had feared. She braced herself for the inevitable crack of his apparition, feeling certain that he was going to leave her. Her eyes filled with tears as she processed her worry that, by telling him the truth so early in their relationship, she had not only ruined her chances of them ever being together but she might also lose him as a friend.


	14. The Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning, and Happy Friday! I'm sending happy thoughts and fairy dust out to everyone reading this, especially those in isolation. I must admit that I've had enough of being stuck at home now, as I'm sure lots of us have, and your comments are helping me keep going, so thank you. Hang in there, and I will upload the next chapter over the weekend.
> 
> Hermione would like to apologise in advance to any American friends who don't agree with her assessment of the comparative virtues of British and American chocolate in this chapter, but she would like it to be known that she HAS tasted both and stands by her verdict :D
> 
> Also P.S. to those of you who are concerned that these two might not get their HEA. Seriously, have you read any of my other fics?! 😂 Do you have any idea how much I love giving Fred and Hermione their happy, soft, fluffy ever after?! 😂😂
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

April 10th 1999. 6.25pm.

The air was all but silent, broken only by the sound of a few seabirds. There was no crack of apparition, and Fred simply stood looking out to sea for what felt like whole minutes. Hermione cried silently and then, when Fred turned around, she saw that his own eyes were filled with tears as well. 

“Oh Gods,” he said, looking surprised to see her face, and then guilty. He rushed back towards her, taking her into his arms. “What’s the matter, love?”

“I thought you were going to leave,” Hermione said, her voice breaking under the strain of dealing with all the emotion. “I thought I had fucked up by telling you.”

Fred shook his head in wonder. “Only you would think that, love. And only you would think that you might be a burden. Gods, she was right; you’re the most amazing witch.” He leaned in close again and kissed her lips, just fleetingly this time. And then he stood, lifting Hermione easily into his arms and sitting down again, with her firmly in his lap.

“That’s impressive,” Hermione said, stroking her finger down his bicep and feeling glad of something that she could say to try and lighten the mood.

“That’s the result of brandishing a beater’s bat for all those years,” he teased. “Here…” He levitated their wine glasses over and they both took a sip before he put them back down.

“Thank you,” Hermione said.

Fred nodded in acknowledgement, and then took her chin in his fingers. “Thank you for saving my life, Hermione. I mean, it wouldn’t be enough if I said it every hour on the hour for the rest of my life, but thank you.” And then he kissed her again; his initially soft touch turning into something more needy and passionate, as his hands wrapped themselves around Hermione’s face and his mouth and tongue tried to communicate everything he felt for the witch in his arms. Hermione returned the kiss with just as much enthusiasm, and they began to gently slide down on the sofa, their bodies pressing together with need.

“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” she said, smiling at Fred when they came up for air again and making him grin at the realisation that she could kiss him for several minutes and then go straight back into the conversation they had been having before they began. He would enjoy testing that ability, he thought, wondering how well she would be able to keep the thread of their conversation in her mind if he was kissing other parts of her. “I don’t want you to feel obligated, Fred. And…” she paused to make sure she had his attention. “And this is the really important bit for me…”

“I’m listening, love,” he said, trying to snap his thoughts into line and regulate his breathing. Gods, Fred thought. He couldn’t believe how much time he had wasted kissing other witches when this lovely woman had been under his nose and beside him at his workbench all the time.

“This is really lovely, Fred, but I don’t want us to start anything unless you truly want to. Please don’t ask me on another date just because you feel bad because I can’t be with anyone else. I’d hate that. I’d truly rather be on my own and see you happy with another witch than have you with me but not really wanting that.” 

Fred’s face took on the most tender look that Hermione had ever seen on him. “Alright,” he said. “You don’t need to worry about that, love,” he said. “I really want to be with you, and it has nothing to do with feeling obligated. I’m Fred Weasley,” he teased, stroking her face. “Not really known for doing the right thing.” His eyes flashed, and she knew that he was about to make another joke. “Would it make you feel better if we didn’t ever mention the soul bond thing again?” 

“Maybe,” Hermione said, still stroking his chest, without realising the effect she was having on him. But then she smiled, and her smile turned into a laugh. She appreciated his words, but they both knew that it wasn’t possible. George and Angie knew. At some point, the rest of their family would need to know, at the very least, and it would be impossible to engineer that in a way which didn’t end up with Molly crying all over Hermione.

“Or,” he pulled her closer, “shall we just work it into our relationship? Have it be something that we cherish but promise not to feel weird about?”

“That would be great,” she whispered. And then she looked up again and into his eyes. “So we’re going to have a relationship?”

“Well,” he briefly took his hand from her waist and waved it to indicate their position and proximity to each other. “It certainly looks like that to me, but perhaps I should escort you to the main course of your dinner and we’ll see if we can work out some mutually agreeable terms?”

Hermione laughed; glad that Fred’s ability to see the fun in anything never seemed to waiver.

“And then,” he said, in a quieter, deeper voice, “we’ll return to the sofa for afters.” He waggled his eyebrows and winked the emphasise his double entendre.

“That would be delightful,” Hermione said, making him laugh by using her prefect voice in tandem with a wink of her own as she slipped off his lap and walked to her seat. 

The main course of their dinner was lovely, although they ate much more slowly than they might otherwise have done. They had a lot to talk about, and Fred held Hermione’s hand across the table the whole time, wanting her to feel secure in the knowledge that he wasn’t going anywhere. He was delighted to see how much Hermione appreciated his cooking.

“George is crap at food,” he informed her happily, as they finished their last mouthfuls. “Mum tried to teach all of us, over the years, but she split us two up so we wouldn’t muck about. Georgie didn’t enjoy it,” he shrugged, “so I took most of his turns as well. She didn’t seem to notice,” he shrugged, “or maybe she pretended not to. But, either way, it gave me more practice.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. She had long suspected that Molly was more able to tell the difference between the twins than they realised, but she kept that thought to herself. For now.

“So are we agreed?” he asked pleasantly, as he offered her more food. She held her hands up in a show of fullness and appreciation.

“That was lovely, thank you, but no. I’ll save myself for the afters you’ve promised me.” Hermione gave Fred a teasing look. “And yes,” she said, watching Fred cheerfully serve himself another helping of food. “I think we’re agreed. I accept your request to be my boyfriend." She paused, and was rewarded with Fred's smile at the pretended formality in her tone. "We'll just tell George and Angie for now, and Ginny and Harry if we need to. But otherwise we’ll take the pressure off ourselves for a few weeks and not tell anyone else. See how things go,” she added. Hermione had felt relieved at that idea. Managing a budding relationship which already contained a one-sided soul bond would be enough to cope with without added surveillance.

“Great,” he said, his eyes still darkening every time he looked at her. “We’ll get Angie and George to need us to babysit more often, which means you can stay away from The Burrow more without Mum getting suspicious.” Fred moved himself, his plate and his chair around the table so he could sit next to her. “I can’t believe I’m doing more talking than kissing,” he said, rectifying that by moving in for another long, slow snog, which made Hermione rub her thighs together in an attempt to quench the growing need that she felt for him.

“Eat,” she said, a bit breathlessly, indicating his plate with a wave of her hand. “You might need the energy later,” she teased him.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed, making his own adjustment under the table. 

“Who was right, by the way?” Hermione asked, as she waited for Fred to finish his second helping of chicken pie and vegetables. She was torn. Part of her wanted to ensure that they finished this important conversation before anything physical happened, so that they both knew where they stood. And the rest of her, the bigger part, was voting to throw caution to the wind and pull Fred back to the sofa and in between her legs. Even if this relationship only lasted a few weeks, she needed to make it be enough. If she only got the chance to make love with him once, she reasoned, she would buy herself a pensive and then she could make the memory last a lifetime. 

“How do you mean, love?” he asked, pulling her from her pondering. 

“You said earlier, ‘Gods, she was right, you’re an amazing witch’, or something like that.”

“Oh, Jessica; the unspeakable I told you about.” He pulled his lips into an apologetic smile. “She asked me to let her know what happens between us. Are you okay with that?”

“Well, let me get this straight,” Hermione said, in the no-nonsense tone of voice that Fred had already come to love. “Am I alright with you thanking the witch who stopped kissing you because she could feel my love for you, which in turn caused you to come to your senses and plan this wonderful date which led to us deciding to be together?”

“Well, yeah, when you put it like that…” he smiled.

“I’d rather like to talk to her myself, to find out where to send the chocolate,” she said. “They have rubbish chocolate there compared to here,” she added, wrinkling her nose as she remembered tasting Hershey’s Kisses on a holiday with her parents. They were nothing like Dairy Milk. “But yes, go ahead. Tell her thank you from me.”

“Talking of chocolate,” Fred said, wiping his mouth with his napkin and offering his hand to Hermione as he stood from the table, “would you care to return to the sofa with me?” He waved his hand at the table. “I’ll take care of this in the morning.”

“Here,” he said, filling her wine glass and producing two plates of chocolate cake once they had re-seated themselves on the sofa, which now faced the setting sun. “I can’t take credit for making this; it’s from my favourite muggle bakery, but it’s yum.”

“Mmmmm, it really is,” Hermione agreed, pulling an ecstatic face as she savoured her first bite. She continued to moan her bliss as she ate her cake, and Fred found he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He ate his own dessert without even looking at it, so intent was he on watching Hermione’s mouth. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Fred held his breath as he felt himself getting hard just from watching Hermione eat. He wondered if it was too soon to suggest doing things to her that would keep that sort of look on her face all night. He decided to be honest, as they had both agreed they would be from now on. So, as soon as she had finished, he put both their plates and glasses to one side. “Oh Gods, Hermione,” he breathed, his forehead against hers and his lips barely whispering his words against her mouth. “I want to take you to my bed. Is that something you’d like, or do you want to wait longer? Am I going too fast?”


	15. The Realisation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning :-) It's promising to be a lovely sunny Sunday here in the land of The Burrow, and I am uploading your weekend chapter before heading out to my garden :-) I know you're all expecting lemons today, but let me just say in my defense that (a) I am trying to make this last us through a few more days of isolation, (b) there WILL be lemons, I promise, just not today and (c) Fred says to add that some important things need to be sorted first and his focus is on Hermione's well-being and not our gratification so hold your horses 😊 😉 
> 
> I hope you enjoy. Next chapter up tomorrow (Monday) and I am sending my ongoing thanks for all your lovely comments that are helping get me through isolation 💜

April 10th 1999. 7.10pm 

Hermione shook her head and gave a gentle chuckle. Fred Weasley – the man to whom she had given her heart; the man who made her feel amazing just by holding her close to him – had just expressed a desire to take her to his bed, and was asking her if she would like that. If she, the witch who had dreamed of him every night since she cast a soul bonding spell in his direction, would like him to make love to her. 

“Like?” she said, pulling her head back very slightly so that she could focus on his eyes. “‘Like’ is a bit of an understatement. If I didn’t feel more than ‘liking’ for you, Fred,” she reached to touch his chest, “this wouldn’t have worked.” Her eyes flashed with lust and the matching smile that she gave him said more than any number of words could. Hermione wasn’t experienced at this, but she knew what she wanted.

Uncharacteristically, Fred blushed. More because of the mixture of emotions that were still racing through him, not to mention the buzz that he felt each time his brand-new girlfriend touched her fingers to his salve mark, but it still made him look as if he were fourteen again and trying to gather the courage to lean down and kiss his first witch. He looked rather cute, she thought. In fact, if Hermione’s heart wasn’t already his, she would probably have given it to him when she saw him in that state. “Well,” he said, soon recovering from the surprise of her candid answer, “I was more concerned about whether you wanted more time. Whether it’s too soon?” 

Hermione shook her head with another chuckle. Her fingers were still against his chest, and she pressed his skin gently to emphasise her point. She wasn’t entirely sure where all this confidence had come from, but she very much liked it. And George would be so proud of the fact that she was finally, finally sharing all of her thoughts and feelings with Fred. In fact, they were just tumbling out now; almost out of her control. 

“This isn’t the sort of spell you cast if you’re not sure how you feel about someone, Fred,” she reminded him. “In fact,” her voice became slightly schoolmarm-like, which only served to make him harder, “it’s not a spell you CAN cast if you don’t love someone enough to want to give your heart and body and soul to them.” She gave a small shake of her head. “This is a lifelong commitment. And it’s one I made a year ago.” 

Hermione’s fingers splayed out, and Fred caught her hand under his own; stilling its movement. He needed her to stop touching his chest. He hadn’t felt this turned on since he was a teenager, and he was slightly afraid of embarrassing himself if she continued. 

Hermione was oblivious to the nature of his predicament. She continued to detail her position; wanting to explain how much she wanted him. “So why would I say no to anything? I’d love to go to bed with you. It’s not like I’m going to fall out of love with you, or ever be able to go to bed with anyone else, is it? You’re the one with the power to decide.” Hermione smiled, trying to reassure him that she really did want what he was offering. It was all very logical, she thought. She would take anything that he was offering and she tried to convey that by gazing into his eyes and being more upfront than she ever had with any man before. 

Fred’s face fell, as he suddenly realised the implications of the nature of Hermione’s charm. “Oh, Circe, Hermione, you’re right.” His hand clutched his chest again, and a look of concern crossed his face, completely confusing Hermione. 

“How do you mean, Fred?”

“I didn’t think.” He paused for a moment. “This isn’t fair,” he said. 

“No,” Hermione’s eyes grew wide. She was suddenly scared again at the thought that he might be pulling back. She grabbed at his hands. “Please, Fred; don’t pull away from me. Don’t get all bloody noble on me now. Please give me a chance,” she said.

“A chance?” Now Fred was confused. “What do you mean?”

Tears filled Hermione’s eyes for the second time in an hour. “This is what I was afraid of,” she said. “I was afraid that it would be too much, if I told you, or that I wouldn’t be enough. I shouldn’t have told you,” she said. “I didn’t give you the choice…”

“Wait,” Fred whispered. This time he pulled her onto his lap so that she was straddling him. “Now, you, don’t go getting the wrong end of the stick again, love. I’m not pulling away. Quite the opposite, in fact.” 

Hermione paused and waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, she decided to prompt him. “I’m listening,” she said. 

Fred gave her the kind of smile that he usually gave her when a potion wasn’t going quite as he expected it to. “You're right that I have the power here, and that's not right. I’m not going to make love with you unless you feel secure, and I really want to make love with you.”

“I want that too, Fred.”

Neither of them really needed to clarify that; they could each feel the effect they were having on each other.

“The truth is,” Fred said, “that I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time, love. I just didn’t realise it until last night.”

If he was ever forced to take veritaserum, Fred thought, he wouldn’t have been able to deny that he would have tried to make the same decision even if he hadn’t cared for Hermione. Out of honour. Hermione loved him enough to save his life by giving him her heart and soul for eternity, after all. Plus, he was a Weasley. They had a strong moral code. But Fred knew, without doubt, that he loved the woman who was sat in his lap, and that they would make it work. 

He also knew, from hours of chatting with his dad while they and George worked on the Ford Anglia, that love was a verb. Marriage was something you had to work on, Arthur had said, not something that made you happy while you sat there passively and waited for the magic to unfurl. The feelings might hit you like a bludger, their dad had explained, using an analogy that he knew the twins would relate to, but the work of marriage was ongoing. A bit like the work of the beater who needed to keep fit, undertake continuous training and keep communicating openly with their partner, even when they were on the other side of the pitch and things weren't going well. 

Fred told Hermione all of these things between kisses. He told her that, more than any of that, she was his dear friend and his favourite late-night confidante. He told her how he much he loved the time that they spent holding Roxy together, as co-Godparents. With that thought, he gave Hermione a final kiss and pulled back slightly, a look of wonder in his eyes. He had just realised, for the first time, why George and Angie had made them Roxy’s magical guardians. The two of them had shipped Fred and Hermione before Fred even considered Fred-and-Hermione as a possibility. He smiled, ready to end his long speech. “Alright then, well there’s only one thing to do." He grinned, as if the answer was obvious.

It wasn't. At least not to Hermione, in that moment. "What?" she asked, so quietly that, if the birds had been singing any louder, he might not have heard.

Fred tipped his forehead against hers and murmured back. "I need to seal the soul bond from my side, love. Make the same commitment to you as you have to me. And then you’ll know for sure how I feel. I am not,” he whispered, as he looked deeply into her eyes, “having you live with the uncertainty of this for a moment longer, love. And I’m not making love to you until you feel secure.”

Hermione’s heart leapt at the knowledge that he felt that way. “Really? Already? Are you sure?”

“Never been surer of anything, actually,” he assured her. 

And he hadn’t. 

“Don’t you want to wait and see how you feel?” she asked.

Fred shook his head. “I don’t need to. And why would I, love? You didn’t stand there and wonder; I wouldn’t be here if you had waited. You just cast the charm.”

When Hermione saw the determined look on his face, she simply nodded. Fred answered her with a smile and received a deep kiss in response. 

“Now,” he said, with raised eyebrows, “the problem is, I don’t know how to seal the bond from my side. Do you?”

“I suppose you could cast _salve amor_ on me in return,” she said, after a few moments’ thought. “Like Remus and Tonks did, though in their case it was a life-saving thing, both times.”

“Is there another way?” he asked. “I mean, I’m okay with doing that, but if there’s another option then we could save that in case Harry picks another fight with another dark wizard…” Or, he thought, if ever you have an accident or get a disease, I’d like the option of having a trick up my sleeve to keep you by my side…

“I don’t know, Fred…” 

“You don’t?” He began to laugh quietly.

“No,” Hermione said. “Why is that so amusing?”

Fred was sporting his biggest grin, and he leaned in closer, snuggling his face into her neck and whispering his next words into her ear. “Do you have any idea how much I’m going to enjoy making fun of you for not having fully researched this before our first date? This is going to last me for _years_ ,” he promised, emphasising his final word before kissing her. Hermione’s heart soared. Years. He was promising her years.

“Years.” He echoed the word, brown eyes widening in emphasis, making her realise that she had said it out loud. He moved his face back into her eyeline. “I’m not just promising you years though, love. I’m promising you forever. Starting tonight, if possible. Although,” he said, “I have one request.”

“Alright,” she said.

“Do you think we can assume that sealing my side of the soul bond is going to supersede the need for any kind of marriage ceremony?” he asked, tipping his head to one side and impressing Hermione. Clearly he had paid more attention at school than she thought. Or perhaps this was normal dinner table conversation in magical families.

“Probably … I don’t know that either,” Hermione replied. She was still processing everything that was happening, and wasn’t sure where this was going. It didn't sound like a request yet. She was, at least, feeling more secure though.

“We need to find out. But no matter what, Mum’ll never let us hear the end of it if we don’t have some sort of wedding party or blessing at some point … but I’d really love to have the same birthdayversary as Georgie, if you’re okay with that,” he confessed. “The older we get, the more different our lives are, and I’d like to have that be the same. I know you’ve waited a nearly-year for me to get here, love, but would you mind waiting another nearly-year for a wedding? Until next April?”

“Of course not,” Hermione smiled lovingly at him. She could see how that would be the perfect wedding date for Fred. The only possible wedding day for Fred, when she thought about it. “I was more surprised at you bringing up marriage; we only kissed a couple of hours ago…”

“Well,” Fred said, with a grin, “I’m trying to work out how to seal an eternal soul bond, love; marriage doesn’t really seem like such a big commitment after that!”

“I suppose not!” Hermione stroked the side of his face. Oddly, her ardour had dampened slightly, and now her prevailing desire was simply to be near Fred. She just wanted to touch him; chat with him; lay beside him and hold hands with him.

“Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” Hermione had got slightly lost in thinking about her feelings and was confused.

Fred laughed. “For someone who’s so clever, you’re such a silly, sometimes! Ready to go to Hogwarts!”


	16. The Corridor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning and Happy Monday! With huge thanks for the lovely comments that you've left over the weekend, here's your Monday morning update, which I hope you enjoy! To those of you who have been waiting for lemons, I have one word: Wednesday :D And if you're wondering, I now know for sure that there are a total of 20 installments to this.
> 
> Hope you're all safe and hanging in there.

April 10th 1999. 7.50pm.

“Are you both sure about this?” Minerva McGonagall looked at Fred and Hermione, who exchanged a loving look and then nodded. 

The elderly witch had been delighted when she opened her door to see the young couple standing together, hand in hand, asking to speak with her. Thanks to a noise amplifying spell that Dumbledore had left on the head teacher’s office door, she had heard them outside in the corridor; cheerfully laughing together. Fred was gently teasing Hermione about her assumption that their goal had been to ask permission to use the library and research their question. “Why go there, when we can talk directly to an expert?” he had asked, just as the aforementioned expert had risen from her chair and gone to greet them.

The headmistress welcomed them in and waved them to the sofa. A nearby house elf was dispatched to bring a giant pot of tea, despite Hermione and Fred’s protests that they were full after sharing a lovely dinner. Once she had gasped in delight at their story and heard what they wanted from her, their teacher asked a few pertinent questions and then sent Fred on his knees to the floo while she chatted to Hermione. 

It was hard for the usually dour Minerva to hide her happiness at hearing their tale. Not only were Fred and Hermione two of her favourite students – for entirely different reasons – but they reminded her so much of James and Lily. And, once Fred and Hermione went public, which they had explained that they would do once they had had a few weeks to get used to their new status themselves – Minerva was going to win an afternoon tea at her favourite coffee shop from Molly. She had made a bet with her friend two or three years ago that Hermione wouldn’t end up with Ron, but with Fred. Minerva had seen the two bickering in the Gryffindor common room and couldn’t help but notice the way they responded to each other. Fred loved to tease Hermione, but was always the first to defend her, sometimes with his fists. That was always a giveaway for the older witch, who had a lot of experience in watching teenagers. And Hermione never hesitated to go toe-to-toe with Fred when she thought he was bothering others, and yet, when she thought no-one was watching, the looks she gave him were tender and understanding.

“Yes, I'm totally sure,” Fred had said, his cheerful eyes as sincere as Minerva had ever seen them. “Hermione didn’t hesitate, and I don’t want to either.” He gave the young witch such a tender look that his professor nearly refrained from the warning she was about to give him, but her care for the two young people in front of her made her speak out anyway. 

“Fred.” McGonagall’s tone was serious. “You do need to be sure that you love Hermione enough before you do this, else the spell won’t take, just like with the _salve_.”

Fred nodded, but he didn’t take his eyes off Hermione. “That’s exactly why I want to do this now, Professor.”

“Minerva,” she corrected. “I think you’ve both earned it.”

Fred gave her a nod before he continued. “Minerva. I’ve been in love with Hermione for a long time; I just didn’t realise it until last night. You’ve just confirmed that this will only work if I truly love Hermione. So, by doing this tonight, Hermione won’t have to wonder about my commitment OR my feelings. Ever again.” He gave Hermione a smile which caused his teacher to nod eagerly. If Minerva McGonagall had held any doubts about Fred’s feelings before, they fell away as soon as she saw the look on his face. 

“Alright,” she said. “The spell to seal the bond from your side is _accipere amor_ ,” she told Fred, pronouncing it twice, slowly, and having him repeat it after her to ensure that he had the syllables and emphasis straight. “The wand movement is just the same as in the _salve_ spell, and I don’t know this for sure, because it’s so rarely used, but I imagine that you’ll mark Hermione’s skin, just as her spell marked yours.” 

“I’m alright with that,” Hermione said, when Fred looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“That’s just as well, then,” McGonagall said wryly, as the floo burst into life. “Right,” she continued, pushing her chair back. “Here are your guests!”

Angelina came through the floo first, and no sooner had she dusted herself off than she threw her arms around Hermione. “I can’t tell you how happy I am!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, you knew too then,” Fred joked, rolling his eyes before giving his friend a hug. “And as for you,” he said to George, who had come through immediately after his wife, with a half-asleep baby Roxy strapped to his chest.

The look on George’s face was so tender and intimate when he saw his brother, who now knew the truth and the fact that George had hidden it from him for all these months, that all three of the adult witches felt they were intruding on too private a moment. Hermione and Angelina looked at each other and, by some sort of unspoken mutual agreement, turned their backs towards the twins, becoming engrossed in dealing with the tea tray and discussing the biscuits. Minerva bustled into a cupboard, saying she needed to look for something. Behind them, Fred and George hugged around Roxy, exchanging quiet words and shedding a few tears that the witches pretended not to notice.

“They’ll be okay,” Angelina reassured the others in a quiet voice. “They always are. They never let anything come between them.”

“I hope so,” Hermione whispered. “I’m glad you could come. It wouldn’t seem right somehow to do this without Fred and George having talked first.”

“Gods, yes,” Angelina replied. “I know I keep saying it, but I’m so happy for you that he’s going to do this! And we get to be there to witness it.”

After a round of ginger biscuits for Angie and George, which the latter insisted upon ‘for old times’ sake’, the little group headed to the seventh-floor corridor. There was no need to be in the same place where the original spell had been cast, their professor had explained, but Fred had been adamant. He wanted to return to the spot where Hermione had saved his life and which was marked by the heart carved high into the stone wall. It just felt right.

Hermione clasped his hand as they walked; thankful that Fred had at least waited long enough for her to slip her shoes back on before he apparated them to the school gate. She would not have wanted to walk the path or the corridors in bare feet. As they turned the corner and neared their destination, George reached for Angelina’s hand too, perhaps for protection against the memories. Hermione squeezed Fred’s hand and George’s eyes filled with tears when he heard her whisper, “you’re safe, Freddie, it’s OK,” to his twin.

“And so are you, Georgie,” Angie said, in an equally quiet voice. “And we’re all going to get to see you both grow into those white-haired old men for real!” From high on George’s chest, Roxy squeaked in excitement to hear her mum’s voice; she was enjoying this unusual evening outing and George had turned her around in her carrier in Minerva’s office so that she could and see what was happening.

“Here we are then.” Minerva’s voice was quiet; reverent, as she stopped below the hearts that had magically carved themselves high into the wall near the entrance to the room of requirement. “Filius and I have long discussed the mystery of why this particular corridor has always housed the hearts. Why didn’t the hearts from the battle spells appear where Tonks or Remus saved each other? Or at a more prominent location in the castle? Well, after tonight I’m going to be able to solve the mystery for him.” She tried hard not to cast her eyes in the direction of the wall that had fallen on Fred, but she couldn’t help herself. “This is the site of the greatest gesture of love that Hogwarts has ever seen. And will probably ever see.”

“Remus and Tonks loved each other though,” Hermione said, and Fred gave a slow smile, shaking his head gently at her failure to truly understand what she had done.

“Yes, and they were already married, and very sure of each other’s love,” said Minerva, sounding more like her usual, logical, practical self. And then, as George would gleefully point out when retelling the story of that night a few weeks later, she lapsed into sounding like the old romantic that she really was. “You, Hermione, gave your heart and soul to save a man you loved without having any guarantee that he would ever love you back. That’s similar to the kind of love that gave Harry the power to do what he did, you know.”

No-one knew how to reply to that, so they just let her words hang in solemnity for a moment. The silence only lasted for a few seconds though, as Roxy punctuated it with another tiny squeak.

“Yes, Uncle Fred and Auntie Hermione love each other,” George whispered into her ear, continuing the running commentary that he had given to his daughter since before she was born. “And now he’s going to do a spell and then I expect they’ll go off and do naughty things and we’ll go home and have a glass of wine. And then if Mummy feeds you, you’ll go to sleep and I can sleep ALL night for a change and then, if I play my cards right, maybe I’ll get to do…”

“Georgie!” Angie’s reprimanding whisper was loud, and made both Fred and Hermione laugh.

“You ready?” Fred whispered.

“Anytime,” Hermione replied, and he let his arm fall from her shoulder, took a step away and then turned to face her. He reached out his left hand, wanting the comfort of holding hers.

“I love you, Hermione Granger,” he said. “Thank you for saving my life.” And then he raised his wand and his voice, wanting his next words to be the clearest that he had ever spoken. “ _Accipere amor_.”

A soft but piercing light followed the movement of Fred’s wand, and Hermione felt a strangely soft sensation over her heart. She would later marvel at how a spell which caused a faint pink cross to appear on her body could feel like a caress. They were looking into each other’s eyes as Fred cast the spell and, no sooner had he finished than they both took a step forward and were in each other’s arms, kissing. 

This time, there was a different kind of tenderness in their kiss. Something deeper, although Hermione had had no complaints about the kisses they had shared on the hill. And then a thought came to her, and she pulled away very slightly to say the words that had been on her lips since the battle itself. “I love you too, Fred Weasley.”

Quietly, and without Fred and Hermione seeing, Minerva was holding the official school camera in her robes. It had been designed to enable an especially long scene to be captured forever. Given that the two had helped save the school itself and, indeed, the larger wizarding world, she deemed it an entirely justifiable use of the magical technology. It showed Fred’s spellcasting, Hermione’s response and then the kiss that followed. Minerva smiled to herself when she thought about how happy they would be to have this memory to hang on their wall. She saw George watching her and winked, wanting to let him know to keep quiet about what she was doing. He nodded in understanding. Minerva decided that she would frame the resulting photo for Hermione and Fred as a wedding present. 

“And, when you’re eleven and you come to Hogwarts,” George whispered to Roxy, while Fred and Hermione were still kissing, “you should bring all your cousins here and … oh fuck, look!”

Both Angelina and Minerva were so surprised by George’s startled reaction that neither reprimanded him for his words. Fred and Hermione broke apart and all five adults looked up at the heart that George was pointing to. The hearts that signified the spells cast by Remus and Tonks still looked exactly the same. But the heart representing Hermione’s _salve_ spell was now enclosed within another, which had appeared on the wall as a result of Fred’s spell.

“Well, yes, Ms Weasley,” breathed Minerva, smiling down at the baby witch who was gazing adoringly at her and oblivious to the significance of the events that she was witnessing, “that is definitely something to show your cousins in a few years' time…”


	17. The Bedroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Lemon Wednesday, at last! I hope you enjoy! And posted with my ongoing thanks for your comments and best wishes for your health and happiness ❤️

April 10th, 1999. 8.15pm.

“Your place or mine, then?”

Hermione responded to Fred’s wink with raised eyebrows and a smile. “Seeing as both of my beds involve our respective parents sleeping in nearby rooms, I think yours might be best,” she said. Her cheeks were flushed from kissing Fred and she stroked his hair while answering.

He shrugged cheerfully before topping up her wine. “Just checking! It would have been kind of fun to take Minnie up on her offer…”

She laughed. George and Angelina had cheered when they realised that Fred's side of the soul bond was properly sealed. The sound of their congratulations had echoed off the walls of the seventh-floor corridor, making Minerva very glad it was the school holidays, else she would probably have had some difficulty getting the occupants of Gryffindor Tower back to their beds. And then their professor had slipped her camera back into her robe and then leaned towards the couple to make a suggestion.

“You’re very welcome to use the Room of Requirement for the night,” she said, but Hermione had blushed at the thought and quickly stammered a polite refusal.

“Why didn’t you fancy it?” Fred asked, as they sat together half an hour later, although the kisses that he was pressing to Hermione’s neck were making it hard to concentrate on answering. They had flooed to George and Angelina's place rather than take the long walk across the rebuilt bridge to get through the anti-apparition wards, but from there they had said a quick goodbye. Fred had brought them back to the hilltop sofa, mainly because he didn’t want to rush Hermione into anything sexual, and this seemed like a good, neutral place. But the light was going and, as romantic as it was to be kissing under the stars, they really needed to decamp somewhere warmer.

“What, and have our first night together become part of the legend?” She shook her head at him with another laugh. “How long do you think it would have been before drunk George spilled that secret to your brothers?! Or before Ginny got it out of me?! And then, one day, all our kids will be teenagers and one of them will overhear everyone joking about it and then, for ever more, it will be, ‘and here are the hearts of the _salve_ spells from the battle, and this is where Hermione Granger lost her virginity!'”

Although Hermione hadn’t quite intended to confirm her sexual innocence to Fred in that way, and didn’t, in fact, immediately realise that she had, he was glad to have his suspicions confirmed.

Once she had declared her desire that they go to his place, Fred made quick work of cloaking their picnic area while Hermione sent a quick message to Molly to confirm that she was staying overnight at the flat. She thanked the Gods that she had done this a few times previously, when she and Fred had been brewing late, so Molly wouldn’t think it unusual. She would assume that Hermione was going to borrow George’s old room rather than apparating back to her own bed.

This time, though, Fred led Hermione to his own room, keeping her lips busy with kisses while randomly casting a few cleaning and tidying spells around him.

“If I’d known you wanted me in that way, I would have tidied up before our date,” he teased her, as he decided that things were tidy enough and returned his full attention to kissing Hermione.

“This is perfect,” she insisted. “I’ve not come to inspect your bedroom.”

“Oh?” His wink was as cheeky as ever. “What have you come to inspect then?”

Her hand immediately went to his chest.

“Show me your mark,” she breathed, and then helped him out of his shirt so that she could press her lips to the cross that she had made on his skin, nearly a year before. Her fingers raked across his chest, teasing his nipples and then running down his body and through the red hairs that trailed towards his boxers. Fred’s breath hitched when he felt her kissing the _salve_ mark; it clearly held magic that they were only just beginning to understand.

“Feels so good when you do that,” he said, and the deep, husky tone of his voice got Hermione’s attention, making her lean back and look into his eyes. She was startled, and overjoyed, to see that they held the exact same look that he gave Roxy. With an additional emotion that was just for Hermione. And now, that emotion would only ever be for Hermione. Her heart soared as she realised again that this was it. The two of them. Forever. And then, she realised, Fred was still talking. “Can I see yours now, love?” he growled, his clever fingers touching the edges of her clothes, wanting her to remove them but not wanting to push her beyond her comfort zone.

But this Hermione wasn’t shy. This was a Hermione who had spent the long winter nights processing things in the safety of her bed. A Hermione who had got her head around everything that had happened and had decided what she wanted. And he was in front of her, and now he was hers.

“Get your trousers off then,” she ordered, and Fred’s eyes widened. He liked that tone. Very much. 

While Fred quickly obeyed, sitting himself on his bed so he could more easily remove his shoes and socks as well, Hermione stood before him and simply lifted her summer dress off over her head, leaving herself before him in just her sandals, bra and knickers.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Oh,” replied Hermione, bending to unfasten her sandals and kick them off. “Very monosyllabic. Is that how it’s going to be?” She smiled. 

“What, you using long words and me swearing one-word replies because I’m speechless at how fucking sexy you are? Yeah, probably.” Fred leaned forward, grinned and pulled Hermione onto his lap so that she was straddling him. “Come here, love…”

He applied his own lips to the freshly-made cross mark just above Hermione’s left breast. Slowly, he traced the wand motion with his tongue, making her let out a breathy noise somewhere between a moan and a squeal. “It’s very pretty,” he remarked. “I think I did a nice job for you. Although,” he conceded, running his hands down to capture her bottom and delighting in the way that her eyes widened in response to the way he gently squeezed her cheeks, “your soul bond casting wins, hands down, for style and timing.”

He lifted Hermione even closer to him, and she could feel him, hard and long, through his boxers.

Hermione continued to run her hands over Fred’s chest and back. “I’ve got no idea what I’m doing,” she confessed into his ear in a whisper.

“That’s okay,” he whispered back. “I’ll take care of you … I promise.” He guided one of her hands to his length, encouraging her to feel him. Her eyes widened again as Fred told her to feel what she did to him; to feel how much he wanted to make love to her, and then he shifted his body, rolling them back on the bed until they were both laying down. 

Hermione lost track of time as he used his hands and lips all over her body; caressing, undressing, nipping and sucking until she was breathless. Fred whispered words of love amidst sexy promises of what he wanted to do with her, and he followed through on some of those promises, giving her a sharp and delightful taste of how it felt to be loved by him. His long fingers stroked up and down her thighs and then slipped inside her knickers; teasing them gently from her body. Slowly and gently, he explored her with his fingers, asking her to tell him what she liked; what felt good. “You’re so pretty; so wet,” he said. “I want you so much, love…”

The combination of Fred's words and touch was almost overwhelming. Hermione had experienced orgasms at her own fingers before, but her own fingers had nothing on the sensations that she felt when Fred touched and rubbed and stroked her. He made maps of her, trailing his fingers into every fold and crevice before centring them on her clit and making Hermione buck with delight. But he held short of letting her come for as long as he could, and until she begged for release. “Not yet,” he said. “I want you to come on my tongue.”

The witch squeaked at his words, a fresh flood of lust streaming from her. When Fred felt it, he moved himself down the bed, positioned his face between her legs and looked up at her with a sexy wink before giving her a long lick with his tongue. Hermione abandoned her sensibilities, let her head roll into the Fred-scented pillow and called out his name in ecstasy. Her orgasm turned into a laugh when she felt the cheeky bugger smile into her pussy; satisfied at a job well done. Hermione shook her head gently, in wonder, and gratitude, and happiness. Only Fred Weasley could make lovemaking this sexy AND this fun.

Once he was sure that he had elicited every good sensation from Hermione’s body, Fred slid back up hers and lay, grinning, beside her. A slow smile crossed Hermione’s face. 

“What?” Fred asked.

“Just wondering if it would be weird to ask Angie if George has a self-satisfied sex grin as well…”

Fred raised his eyebrows and then laughed. “The two of you are going to have many decades together … it’s hard to imagine it not coming up at some point.”

She leaned in and kissed him again, reaching down and through the fabric of his underwear to wrap her hand around him; the action causing Fred to take a sharp intake of breath.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” she asked, boldly.

Fred’s eyes widened. “Well,” he said, “I don’t know where this confident, sex kitten Hermione has come from,” he said, “but I really like her…” He confirmed that thought with another long, slow kiss before turning over onto his back. “And no,” he said, wriggling out of his boxer shorts. “I think you should fuck me; that way, you’re in control. Come here, love…”

Fred lay down on his back and gently helped Hermione move above him until she was straddling him. He took his cock in his hand, held it while she tried and tested different positions and angles, and wondered if he should cast a sticking spell on his arse to prevent himself from losing control and thrusting up into her as hard as he badly wanted to. 

He needn’t have worried. She was more than ready. Hermione bit her lip and then softly moaned as she began to slide down on him, and realised how good it felt to be filled with Fred. She raised herself up and down a few times, sinking him further inside her each time, until he realised that she had taken his entire length into her pussy.

“So good,” she whispered.

“Mmmmmm. Can I?” He couldn’t help but spread his hands over her arse, and her response was clear.

“Oh yes … Fred.”

Fred gently began to use his hands to encourage her to speed up a bit, to raise herself higher and then sink down deeply again. He guided her higher up his body and forwards, knowing that this would cause his cock to stimulate her into a different kind of orgasm than the one he had just given her with his tongue and, after a few minutes of thrusting and murmuring and swearing – from Hermione’s lips as well as his own – Fred felt her tighten around him. He gently squeezed her arse cheeks and drank in the look of utter joy on Hermione’s face as she began to come, from deep inside. He leaned up to kiss her neck as she cried out his name. 

Unable to hold back any longer, Fred let himself go. His own orgasm shattered over him and Hermione’s name came tumbling from his lips, over and over, as he held her hips in his hands and poured himself into her. Finally. Hermione sank down on his chest as he finished and Fred wrapped his arms tightly around her, clasping his soulmate and whispering his love into her ear. She lifted her head when she felt an odd sensation on her breast and their eyes met, softened and then flashed with joy. The soul bond marks on both their breasts were pulsing and glowing slightly as their magic and their love for each other finally and fully merged.


	18. The Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning, and Happy Friday 😊 
> 
> Here's your bank holiday update, and we just have two chapters to go now! I will try my best to upload the penultimate chapter on Sunday or Monday, but no promises as to exactly when that will be, as it's a holiday weekend and I'm hoping there will be sun in my garden! Hope you're all hanging in there. Thank you for the continued happy chatting; it's helping me feel less isolated, and I hope that this is helping you at this time of world wide weirdness as well ❤️

May 29th, 1999.

Despite having decided that they would keep their relationship to themselves for a few weeks, Molly Weasley had taken one look at Hermione and Fred when they arrived – separately – at The Burrow for Sunday lunch after waking up in Fred’s bed after their first night together, and immediately knew that they were a couple. She couldn’t explain how, and Arthur just shook his head in long experience of his wife’s intuitive knowledge and advised them not to ask. Hermione and Fred decided to acknowledge that they were dating, but didn’t share the fact that they were already soul-bonded. 

That plan didn’t last long, though. For the first few weeks after Fred had cast his spell and sealed their soul bond, he and Hermione couldn’t bear to be apart. It wasn’t so much that separation caused them actual pain, but that being close together gave them so much joy. From the moment that they made love, their marks would gently buzz when they were in close proximity, and the two of them sported almost permanent smiles. George’s response to this was to capitalise on this happy situation, putting the happy couple to work, side by side in the shop’s brewing room, thus making the most of their energy. By contrast, Harry was slightly worried about this apparently rapid change and Ron assessed the situation when he visited the shop one day as, ‘really weird, you two are’. Hermione answered his comment with a laugh, pulling off her apron and sending a quick message to Harry and Ginny to join them for lunch, where she told them everything. Astonished but delighted, they agreed to join the circle of secrecy. Although, Ron warned, Fred and Hermione would need to ‘start behaving more like normal people’ if they didn’t want everyone to know.

Hermione and Crookshanks moved out of The Burrow and into Fred’s flat right away, and it was there that she learned that she had passed all of her NEWTS with flying colours and graduated from school with the qualifications for any job she wanted. But, as she told Fred as she cuddled him in bed that morning, she had given up any idea of working elsewhere, just for now. Hermione needed to be near Fred, and Fred needed to be able to scoop Hermione up in his arms and hug her every hour or so. They sat down with George and Angie one evening to discuss their situation, while Roxy slept in Angie’s arms, and the twins carved out a financial and planning management role at the shop for Hermione, at least until they had adjusted to things. They had learned from Minerva that the pull they felt to be near each other wouldn’t be this strong forever, but apparently the time that had lapsed between the casting of the two spells meant that their magic would keep them wanting to be close for a while.

Molly hadn’t been keen on the fact that Hermione and Fred were, as far as she could see, living together before they had even properly established their relationship. She was trying to update her self-confessed old-fashioned ways in light of the changes that were happening in the wizarding world, but it was hard to let go of her desire that people should properly commit to each other before living together. And then, just a few weeks after Fred had completed their bond, Molly had uttered those exact words over another Sunday dinner, and George had snapped.

“Sorry, Hermione,” he said, putting down his knife and fork and rising from his chair. Roxy looked surprised at the unexpected movement. “I can’t," he said. "I can’t do it any longer. I’m going to break my promise to you.”

Hermione looked at Fred, saw that he was on the same page, and nodded. She had been thinking it was about time for this herself. And it really was only fair to let George spill the beans; he had endured the pain and angst of this almost as much as Hermione herself.

“Mum,” said George, firmly, “and everyone. Hermione has already made more of a commitment to Fred than anyone around this table has made to their partner.” He held up his hand to still the aghast and confused looks which were the result of his provocative words. “During the final battle, when Fred was hit by the wall…” 

There was a long pause while George looked distressed, gulped in a few breaths and tried to form the words he wanted to say. Remarkably, his usually noisy and impatient family held the space when they saw his obvious anguish. They all waited for him to take Angelina’s offered hand, and then continue. 

“He was gone.” 

Tears ran down George’s face as he held his and Angelia’s entwined fingers to his heart. Roxy looked up adoringly at him from her sling and gently patted the side of his face where his ear had once been. Luna was already claiming that Roxy had a special kind of wisdom, beyond her age and stage. George was less sure. He thought Roxy probably was just copying Angie, who always tended to stroke and kiss him there.

“And then I felt him come back. I saw Hermione’s arm move, and I felt something.” George’s voice was choked. “She cast a spell on Fred; it saved his life … brought him back.” 

Another deep, ragged breath. He was trying hard not to cry; not because he was scared of displaying the emotion, but because he so badly wanted them to hear the story from his point of view. 

“It was a _salve_ charm that she cast,” he said, and waited for the collective gasp that he knew would follow. “Hermione gave Fred her heart and soul without thinking about herself … without knowing if he would ever return her love. They had never even kissed,” he said, looking around the table. “No-one even knew she liked him. And then, because she’s Hermione, she just waited. She made me promise not to tell him. Because she didn't want him to sacrifice his own options because of what she had done. She only wanted him if he loved her for who she is, not because she had saved him. Because she’s that fucking amazing.”

Fred was holding Hermione closely and, in answer to the unasked question that was on everybody’s lips, the two of them silently used their fingers to open the top couple of buttons on each other’s shirts to show the marks left by their charms. Molly gasped again, this time with delight, when she saw that Fred had completed the soul bond and given his own heart to Hermione as well. 

“So,” George continued, “anyone who can’t see that these two deserve to be together every moment of the day and night, well they can speak to me.” He took a final deep breath, happy that he had got everything he wanted to say out without completely breaking down, and not wanting the moment to become maudlin. 

“Now,” he said again, seeing that everyone was still letting him have the floor and wanting to make somewhat light of what he knew was a massive, emotional deal, “don’t all hug her at once; you know she’ll hate that.” He turned to his daughter, who was gurgling at the sound of his voice. “Roxy, love, do you think it would be too piggy if Daddy had more apple pie?”

The noise level became deafening and Hermione was, of course, stampeded. Molly cried for several hours, Arthur was visibly shaken and the entire afternoon was emotional, tearful and filled with rounds of tea, pie and firewhisky while everyone absorbed the news. Hermione knew it needed to happen at some point, and Fred did his best to use his body to protect her from overwhelm. Eventually, he pulled her away and out into the garden, insisting that they needed a few minutes of rest together, given the rather emotional experience that sharing their news had been.

Before she left the kitchen, Hermione gave George a hug. “Thanks for saving me from having to tell everyone,” she asked.

“My pleasure,” he smiled, tightening his hold on her and resting his chin on her head. 

“At least he got his moment of glory,” Angelina said, putting her own head on George’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Fred asked. 

“Oh,” Angie laughed, “he had all sorts of plans and contingencies set up in case you ever got too serious about anyone else. He might have promised not to tell you,” she looked at Fred to emphasise her words, “but he didn’t promise not to give products to any witch that you got too close to. And he was always coming up with schemes to get the two of you together. Locking you up together somewhere with a bottle of wine after casting a shirt-vanishing spell on you was a personal favourite of mine!”

Fred shook his head, laughed and guided Hermione outside. After allowing them twenty minutes of peace, his mother peered out of the kitchen door to see if they were still sitting alone. They were. Then, in a gesture that said more than any number of words could have done, Molly came out into the garden where Fred and Hermione were chatting softly together under a large tree and presented the couple with a large bundle.

“This is Fred’s wedding present,” she said to Hermione, as Fred began to unwrap the parcel to find an enormous patchwork quilt. It was made from scraps of his baby clothes, school uniforms and quidditch robes. Although, Molly explained, some may technically be George’s; it had been hard to keep them separate and they had frequently been swapped around in the wash. Molly spent a few moments pointing out other fabrics that she had gathered over the years, including fabric from her own wedding dress and the robes that Arthur had worn when they got married. 

“This is gorgeous,” Hermione sighed, although she and Fred both knew that the timing of the gift was as much their present as the quilt itself. Molly was acknowledging that they were as good as married.

“Thanks, Mum,” Fred said, reaching for Molly’s hand to pull her down for a hug.

“I started making them all early,” Molly continued, “with there being so many of them. That way, I don’t have to spend the run-up to everyone’s wedding day sewing. I've seen the quilt on his bed at the flat, and it's really too loud for a relaxing night’s sleep,” she informed Hermione. “The two of you should have it now. Given ... well, you know.” She held her arms out and engulfed them both in another hug, but her next words were for Hermione alone. “Thank you for loving and saving my son.” Her eyes flicked to where George, Angelina and Roxy were playing together on a wooden swing. "Well, you saved two of my sons," she added, making Hermione's eyes fill with tears at the thought of how things might have been for George.

Having given her blessing to their living arrangements in her own inimitable fashion, Molly bustled away, leaving Hermione and Fred to drape the quilt over themselves and snuggle up under it on the lawn, despite the warmth of the day. 

The very next day, Fred sent Molly a bouquet of flowers, an enormous bag of daffodil bulbs for her to plant in The Burrow's garden and a note. It was a request that she keep his next birthday free. He and Hermione both liked the idea of a yellow spring wedding.


	19. The Blessing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and here's a wedding (well, bond blessing) for you, in the hope of brightening your Monday morning 😊 
> 
> Just the epilogue to go after this, which I will post Wednesday. 
> 
> Hope you're all doing OK. I have so enjoyed all of your comments and the conversations that we have had while I've been posting this - thank you - and, if you read carefully, you will see that I have incorporated one of two of the things that I have learned from our conversations into the story itself ❤️

April 1st, 2000

“Now, no squeaking, please. Even though it IS really exciting that Auntie Miney is finally making an honest man of Uncle Freddie. Just look at Victoire,” George pointed to the little witch who was sat on her dad’s lap. “She doesn’t feel the need to squeak at everything, does she? Elliot’s sleeping very nicely on his mummy. And even Teddy has normal coloured hair. Well,” he grinned in the direction of the little boy, who was stood happily on Remus’ lap, facing backwards and entertaining the guests who were seated in the two or three rows behind his parents, “normal for Teddy, anyway.”

George’s grin belied his words. He delighted in every squeak that came out of Roxy’s mouth, and was almost sad that, soon, they would turn into proper words which everyone else could understand. Until now, he had been able to have ongoing conversations with her in which he had been able to interpret and build upon her baby noises, pretending that she was making witty comments about family members and coming up with ideas and solutions for products. 

Ange smiled and shook her head at the two of them. She had already confessed to both Hermione and Molly that she was planning to mark Roxy’s first word – and, thus, her verbal autonomy – by suggesting that they should make George another baby to chat with. Molly had taken the opportunity to suggest that Hermione might like to consider beginning her own family, so that their children would be in the same year at Hogwarts. 

“I think we’re doing a good job between us of ensuring Minerva tiny Weasleys in every year for the next couple of decades,” Hermione had remarked. Angelina had suppressed a smile and kept her mouth shut. She knew from their weekly ‘twin dinners’ that Fred and Hermione were already trying, and suspected that it wouldn’t be long at all. Maybe Hermione would come back pregnant from their honeymoon; she wouldn’t be surprised, given the apparent super fecundity of the Weasley family.

“Tell Daddy to hand you over, lovely, because Auntie Miney’ll be here any moment.” Angelina stood up from her seat and took Roxy from George so that he could concentrate on his real job of standing by Fred. Who was bouncing from one foot to the other and looking alternately delighted and terrified. This was despite the fact that George had repeatedly reminded him that he and Hermione were already far more than married and this was simply a blessing ceremony which provided their family and friends an excuse to get together, wear bright clothes and offer the happy couple their congratulations and gifts.

“Rings?”

“Yep.”

“Fireworks?”

“Lee.”

“Inappropriate best man’s speech?”

“Absolutely.” George patted his pocket. “I’ll have Auntie Muriel flooing home in a huff by the second paragraph,” he grinned.

Fred’s next question was out of the blue.

“How did you know?” he asked George, turning his back on their assembled family so that no-one else would hear. “I always wondered. The first morning we woke up together, in my bed, I had Hermione tell me everything, and she said you knew, from that first day in the hospital that it was a _salve_ that she had cast. But she didn’t know how you knew, and you were too far away from her to hear. Said she was just focused on swearing you to secrecy.”

George looked to the sky and sighed. He was going to cry if he told Fred this. And that sucked, because his brothers already all ripped the piss out of him for his habit of always crying at weddings, but he could see that Fred needed this moment. He decided he could take one for the team.

“I felt you go,” he said, his eyes filled with tears. “I saw the wall fall, and it felt like my heart was ripping in two. I don’t know how long it took them to get the rocks off you, or anything. And then, through the pain and my tears, I saw Hermione’s arm move, under her robes, and I still don’t know whether I felt or saw the next bit, or both, but there was light, and love, and a cross, and a heart, all in my head at once, and then there was a huge whooshing noise going through me. I heard her say the words, even though I couldn’t have done, because she later told me she whispered it, and then I just knew you were back with me again. I fell onto my arse and couldn’t move for a bit,” he spoke slowly, trying to keep it together. “They pulled you out, and you were okay. She … I knew that I owed her everything. Because I couldn’t have … no, don’t you dare fucking hug me, Fred. Why couldn’t you have asked me at the stag do?”

It was too late. The two brothers were both in tears, and they buried their faces in each other’s shoulders for a few moments while they processed their emotion. Then, by mutual agreement, they stood and began to address the front few rows.

“Bloody hay fever,” said Fred.

“Every flipping time,” agreed George.

“Wedding flower allergies!” they chorused, in explanation to the assembled guests. “Bloody daffodils!” No-one believed them. The story was too well-known by now, and it was well-loved. 

“Lavender,” George suggested, looking along the front row for his youngest brother’s fiancée.

Lavender didn’t need to be asked twice. She produced a couple of moisturising wipes from her handbag. Ignoring the barrage of piss-taking from Charlie, who was sitting on Lavender’s other side, jiggling the now-awake baby Elliot on his lap, the twins sorted themselves out and then stood together, tall and proud. They put their arms around each other’s shoulders, waiting for Hermione and her dad to appear. 

And then they saw Ginny begin to walk down the aisle and realised that it was time. 

“Gin looks calm.” George’s words were as much for Harry’s benefit as anyone else’s, and the dark-haired wizard grinned at his brother-in-law. 

Ginny had been incandescent when she found out what Hermione had been keeping from her. Not because she felt that she was entitled to know all of Hermione’s secrets. Because, as she had explained to Hermione after dragging her out of Fred’s flat and into a booth at the nearest pub, she could have helped. “I would have made him stop dating all of those silly witches,” she had raged. “And told him he needed to fall in love with you instead!”

“And that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you, Gin,” Hermione had reasoned with her friend. “I didn’t want him to be with me out of obligation or because he knew what I had done. I _didn't_ want him to know. I only wanted him to be with me if he truly loved and wanted me,” she explained, handing over a chocolate frog in the hope that it would serve as a peace offering. 

Thanks to Ginny’s sweet tooth, it did, and the now very pregnant redhead walked down the aisle in her bridesmaid’s dress, beaming and radiant, having not only forgiven Hermione but fully thrown her extensive planning services into her wedding. Hermione had happily let Ginny, Molly and her own mum do all the planning they wanted, as long as she had the right to veto. It had never been her thing, anyway, and she would much sooner spend her time snogging Fred. 

As Fred watched his sister walking down the aisle towards him, he caught sight of a head of brown, curly hair a few rows back, and a smile broke out across his face.

“Is that her?” George asked, and Fred nodded.

“I’m so glad you made it,” he mouthed, and Jessica gave him a smile and a wave, which he and George both returned. “Thank you,” Fred added, and she gave him a small salute before smiling and taking the hand of the wizard who she had brought as her date. Hermione and Jessica had become pen pals of a sort, enjoying a regular correspondence in which they exchanged ideas and chocolate. Hermione had begun by sending a gift pack containing some of Honeydukes’ truffles and a slab of Dairy Milk to Louisiana, explaining her experience of subpar chocolate when she had visited the USA. In return, Jessica had posted – or, as the American witch wrote, mailed – her and Fred each a Trader Joe’s cookie butter bar. Hermione was delighted to find that it was vastly superior to the Hershey’s kisses that she had been bought on her visit, and enjoyed it even more than the packet of American cinnamon sweets which Jessica had popped in and which reminded Hermione of Fred’s scent.

And then Fred’s attention was drawn away, because the music changed, and suddenly his eyes were full of tears again. Hermione stood at the back of the rows of guests, next to her dad and with a beaming smile on her face which Fred knew was just for him. Both of their hands moved instinctively to their hearts, touching their fingers to their soul bond marks in what they thought was a secret gesture to remind each other of their love. Like most Weasley family secrets, it wasn’t secret at all. The entire family and most of their friends melted each time they did it. It was nearly as sweet as when they shared a cuddle and Hermione would always, apparently without realising, put her cheek over Fred’s _salve_ mark. 

“Breathe,” George reminded him, and Fred nodded. 

Halfway to him, Hermione’s dad leaned towards her and, in the teasing tone that he had used since she was as small as Roxy was now, he asked the age-old question. “Are you sure?”

Hermione smiled, touched her chest again and looked at Fred with nothing but love in her eyes. “Bit late now if I’m not,” she said, with a wink to her Dad before giving him a kiss and letting go of his arm to step forward and take Fred’s hands. “I love you,” she whispered, as she wove her fingers with his, and he echoed her words.

From behind them, Roxy squealed, and then George’s voice rose out of the silence.

“She says she loves you too. And can you please hurry up and make her a cousin…” 

Hermione turned to look at her goddaughter and smiled. “Alright, then, Missy,” she said. “Let’s bless this soul bond, have our party, and then we’ll see what we can do for you…”


	20. The Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we've come to the last part already! 
> 
> Thank you for joining me and chatting with me for the last month as I posted this; it's been so lovely to have your company in the comments. 
> 
> If you're not already reading it, I have an ongoing happy, low angst Fremione and Weasley family saga called Fremione and the Weasleys, which I update every Tuesday. It's a series and you can either start with part 1 or part 13, as part 13 is a prequel! And I will be writing more, so feel free to follow me if you like this kind of thing. And I love that some of you have now started to chat to me in the comments on that fic - please keep doing that; I always reply to happy comments! 
> 
> In the meantime, I have some very exciting news! I'm creating a 'Fremione Fluff Trail'! My friend and fellow Fremione lover LSUSWEETIE (who, as you may recall, Louisiana-picked Jessica in this fic so that our Southern Belle didn't sound like she was from England haha) has written a fluffy Fremione fic called [Truth or Dare, For Two](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23655487/chapters/56781550) and she has posted the first chapter today so that, if you need continued fluff to get you through the current situation, you can go straight from this to that.  
> 

September 1st 2011.

Hermione and Fred didn’t make Roxy a cousin as promised.

They made her two. 

On their first try, anyway. Frankie and Gabriel were, according to Molly, just as cheeky as their uncles had been. Roxy was delighted with her matching cousins, especially when Fred and George would hold one each on their lap and let Roxy sit in between them to watch DVDs. 

The twins were later joined by another three boys, although each of Hermione and Fred’s later children arrived individually rather than in a pair. Much to Hermione’s relief. Especially as she found that she enjoyed giving birth in water just as much as Angie, and it was becoming awfully crowded in the bathroom when everybody wanted to jump in with Hermione and Fred and help welcome each new family member as soon as they had been born. 

By the arrival of their fifth son, Arthur was offering to enlarge the bathroom, but Hermione was insistent that she was done. No, she said to Molly, she didn’t need a daughter – especially as there was a good chance that she would need to have another two to make that happen – and she was very happy to call it a day. She had enough mothers, sisters and nieces if she needed female company. 

So, just as Molly had done before her, Hermione lived in a house that was full of noise and brooms and quidditch jerseys. As she and Fred were the only Weasleys of their generation to achieve the feat of having at least one child in each of the four Hogwarts houses, they had a slightly easier job of identifying each son from the colour of their jersey when they were in the air over the garden. Apart from Frankie and Gabriel, who both wore Gryffindor colours and, just like their uncles had, played beater for their house. Once the horde of Weasley cousins came tumbling out of the floo to join the boys, though, the only person who could reliably identify all the players was Lee, who came over regularly with his own brood to give his wife Verity a break. 

The Weasley adults and their friends fell roughly into two halves. There were those who were happy to sit together on a couple of sofas that had been placed in a cosy hut beside the quidditch pitch. And those – including Fred, George, Angelina, Ron, Charlie, Ginny and Harry – who preferred to be up in the air and in the action. The latter group would divide themselves between the teams, after tossing a sickle to decide who was going to swoop up and join in the game and who was going to referee the match. Harry and Ron were particular unlucky in this regard, as one or other of them seemed to end up refereeing about ninety per cent of the time. They were lamenting this one Christmas day when Hermione was, for once, not pregnant or breastfeeding and had, as a consequence of this fact, over-indulged in Molly’s eggnog. “Honestly!” she said to them, shaking her head with laughter. “Has it never occurred to you to look at the coins that Fred and George bring to do the toss with? Seriously, how do you manage in the Auror’s department with such poor detective skills?!”

Hermione loved her life and her family but was also happy to go out to work as respite from the noise. The Weasleys had decided to pool resources and home school all the kids until it was time to go to Hogwarts. The result was a large, boisterous group which might have looked, from the outside, like a small military operation, but which was run in a kind way with only the rules that were really necessary to prevent it from descending into chaos. Each of the adult Weasleys took turns, in pairs or threes, to either teach a half-day each week or to lead some kind of extra curricular activity. Fred and George hired staff to run the day-to-day of the shop and built a large workshop in the garden so that they could work from home and then look after their own kids when Hermione and Angelina needed to work. Their half day lesson was on Wednesday afternoons, when they taught ‘inventing’; a subject which was not currently on the Hogwarts curriculum but which would, if the two had their way, soon be added. They regularly petitioned Minerva, offering to guest teach, sponsor prizes and give a generous royalty for any products invented by students that might be saleable. Minerva had turned them down for several years, but was aware that, once a new generation of Weasleys with a passion for inventing lessons arrived, it may only be a matter of time.

Hermione was delighted that the twins’ passion for fatherhood, teaching and leading after school flying lessons meant that she could pursue a political career at the Ministry after the twins were born and once the soul bond had settled, allowing her and Fred to feel okay about being apart during the day. She was as keen as ever to try to make things better for all, and began to work part time, going full-time once her family was complete, weaned and in the tender loving care of their father and uncle. Hermione chose to close her eyes to the fact that the house and garden was utter chaos from five minutes after she left in the mornings until five minutes before she flooed home to find Fred waiting for her with dishevelled hair, a cheeky grin and, on Fridays, a cold glass of chardonnay. 

Having threatened for years to plan her retirement around the eleventh birthday of the eldest children of the Weasley twins, Minerva McGonagall instead welcomed all of their children to Hogwarts with open arms. She personally escorted Roxy, Elliot and Victoire, who were the first of the new generation of Weasleys to arrive at the school, to see the _salve_ hearts on their first day. They knew all about them from the photo that Minerva had gifted Hermione and Fred with, which took pride of place on their wall, of course, and Roxy never failed to remind her cousins that she had been there with her parents to witness the sealing of their soul bond. George had told Roxanne, her younger siblings and Fred and Hermione’s sons that bedtime story many, many times over.

Later that day, once the students were all assembled around the tables in the great hall, the Headmistress regaled her charges with details of a few things that they may want to look for when they were walking around the castle. “And when you are next in the seventh-floor corridor,” she said, smiling around the great hall at the first-year students, “have a look high up on the wall for the hearts which appeared in response to the three _salve amor_ spells that were cast during the Battle of Hogwarts. Which you’ll learn more about in your History of Magic class.” 

Roxy looked over at Teddy, who pulled a face. “Yes,” he said, with a grin, “we know you were there!”

“As you might know from your parents,” Professor McGonagall continued, “two of the charms were cast mutually by our own Professor Lupin and his wife, Auror Tonks.” She nodded to Remus, who gave her a broad smile and acknowledged the students’ stares with a wave. “Their charms were cast at different times during the battle, but mutually. The third _salve_ charm was cast by our very own Minister for Magic, Hermione Granger, and it saved the life of Fred Weasley, who sealed his side of their soul bond here in the castle just a few months later. And I’m delighted to say that, as peace has reigned ever since, we’ve had no need for anyone to cast a _salve_ spell since that night. Now,” she clapped her hands, making the food magically appear on the tables. “Enjoy the welcoming feast!”


End file.
